A grandfather and his ten-year-old grandson were walking through a large forest. The barely visible path winds between the tall trees.

It was evening. The travellers were tired. The grandfather was about to settle down for the night somewhere under the open sky when suddenly the boy saw a hut in the woods near the forest path.

- Grandpa, there's the hut! - joyfully exclaimed the grandson. - Can we spend the night in it?

- Yes, it is a hut for travellers," explained the grandfather.

They entered the forest hut. It was clean, and there was a sprig of fir tree on the wooden wall. According to the folk custom, it meant hospitality: please come in, honoured guests.

Grandfather and grandson came to the table and saw a fresh loaf of bread and a small jug of honey. A bucket with water stood on the window. Grandfather and grandson washed their faces and sat down to dinner.

- Who prepared all this on the table? - asked the grandson.

- A kind man, - replied the grandfather.

- How could it be so? - wondered the grandson. - A kind man left us food, and we don't know who he is. What was he trying for?

- To make you better, - replied the grandfather.

Vasily Sukhomlinsky 

Friends, here comes August, the last month of summer. The days are rolling towards September, the nights towards stargazing. Apple smells. Heavy branches bend to the ground. Kind people carefully support them with sticks so that they don't break from their marvellous load. Soon the sweet amber brew will be boiled, and put into empty jars to delight us with the fragrant aroma of apple summer on frosty winter evenings.

Apples are falling, and stars are falling. Just have time to make wishes, dream and breathe in this summer with a whole breast.

Happy summer weekend to all!