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It was an interesting summer. If the first month of rest did not differ from the previous summer vacation, I was in town, the next two months were the most memorable for me, I went to my aunt in the village. That is, with carrying out day in the village I relate the most interesting events and vivid impressions of my summer.In the village the time goes slowly and hesitantly, not at all, as in the big cities. It seems that a month has passed, but in reality was only a week. Usually, in the morning, I help my aunt in the kitchen garden, although it before my day begins. Our village is far from the town and the water from the tap luxury unheard of, so I take two old iron bucket and go through three houses to the well. Well water is incredibly clear and very cold. Sometimes we have to do something around the house, but as soon as the first opportunity I peremahivayu over the fence and ran to his friends.In the village of my good friends. Together, we spend most of the time. In the hottest days we can sit for hours on the river. Swim, frolic and watched the passing barges. Somehow I got from my aunt for what I missed lunch, and actually I was not hungry. The fact that my friend Pasha brought from Uncle Sergei whole package of potatoes and we bake it right in the fire. What a pleasure to jibe from one hand to another hot potato, and then crush and eat a piece, clearing it from the salty ash. Agree, this is not a plate of prepared soup. But how much of romance and happiness conducted as if in a different world, summer days!In the evening I was sitting at home in a wooden hut. Usually, after dinner with my aunt came girlfriends, they have long sat at a large round table in the center of the room, drinking tea. I was close, climbing on a large stone oven, and either saw the book, brought from the city, or do nothing, as is often said aunt "beat thumbs." Though actually I kept a diary, and like Robinson Crusoe on a desert island, making notes, counting the days until the time when I was taken into the city.Sometimes, I find myself thinking that the village is far from the city island, where life is subordinate to another rhythm. Maybe because there are closer to nature, or perhaps just the city so far detached from this quiet life in the pursuit of technological progress. Anyway, I city person and my place there, in an endless stream of information, but each time leaving this quiet island of tranquility, I will remember how to spend the summer and miss my village.