Cow patties.

When we come to visit my mother, usually after a feast, she collects the remaining bread, carefully cuts it into cubes and puts it on a baking sheet in the oven.
When I asked why she was doing this, two small bags of crackers had already accumulated, my mother answered:
-How else. It's bread, folks! How to throw it away?
This time I suggested taking the crackers to the bird feeder. Mom looked at me sternly and replied that it was not necessary to endure it yet. She eats crackers with chicken broth, and it is very tasty.
“Don’t be offended, son,” Mom continued, “your generation has not experienced either war or real hunger. That is why your attitude to food and bread is, how to say, superficial and disrespectful. If you want, I'll tell you how we starved after the war.
I nodded in the affirmative, and my mother, saddened, began to tell.
- I don't remember the famine in the early thirties due to infancy. Yes, and my parents said that he was not as scary as in Ukraine and in the central regions. Again, we did not grow wheat then, but barley, oats, rye, and they grew well in our area. And besides, potatoes and vegetables from the garden.
There was a very terrible famine in the village in 1947. During the war, too, was hungry, but still not like that. On potatoes, cabbage, beets, carrots, turnips, they somehow stretched.
The collective farm came out of the war completely poor. There were almost no horses left, only culled by the military commission, and without them what can you do. There were no tractors or cars then. All on horseback. Again, who should work? Some women and children on the collective farm.
In 1946, a crop failure occurred almost everywhere, and especially on our collective farm. They did not even give out hay for workdays, not to mention the rest.
In 1947, I graduated from a medical school in Kirov and was sent as a paramedic to the Berezovsky Village Council. In our own Darovsky district, but only far from our village, almost sixty kilometers.
Before work, they were allowed to come home for a few days. The situation at home is deplorable. Mom worked on the collective farm from morning till night, my father, after returning from the army, had not yet fully recovered from his illness, he could hardly walk with a stick, but he was also attached to the collective farm at the stable. Younger sisters and brother at home doing housework. They have a garden, and a cow, and chickens, and they are not even teenagers - younger schoolchildren.
For several days I helped with the housework, the time flew by instantly. Already need to gather in Berezovka.
Lifts were not given back then. And I spent the money, the last scholarship, almost all of it on gifts for parents and younger children. Tomorrow I already have to go, but I don’t even have anything to pack for the road. Vegetables have not yet grown, and there are no stocks.
Mom walked through the village at lunchtime, barely managed to beg two glasses of oatmeal at the other end, from the Maltsevs. My brother went to the meadows, brought a basket of clover flowers and quinoa. They ground the quinoa and clover, mixed it with one glass of flour and baked something like pancakes in the oven. Maybe twenty pieces turned out. Mom gave the kids a kolobok, me, herself and father too. The rest she wrapped in a rag and folded into a bundle.
Punished on the road:
-You, girl, you won’t eat everything right away, who knows how it will be with food. And the oatmeal flour that lies in the bag, brew it with water. A tablespoon will be just right for a mug, and a bit of salt. Maybe you'll make it to paycheck.
In the morning I got on foot to Darovsky. I came to the district health department for an appointment. They look at me there, they can’t understand what kind of miracle this happened. Skinny, her eyes dropped from a long walk, behind her shoulders a duffel bag with simple belongings. A teenager, and only. What are eighteen years old? And sixteen is hard to give except.
They wrote out a referral to the Berezovsky Village Council, put a seal on it and told me to wait in the yard. The car was supposed to go there in the afternoon.
The secretary of the district health department, who gave me the direction, admonished:
- You're lucky, girl. Good village council, rich. You won't get lost.
The car drove off in the evening. I got to the village council by nightfall. Of course, there is no one there. It was difficult to find a secretary. The woman took me to the hut where the first-aid post was located.
The hut is ordinary, rural. The stove separates a third of the room. A large room is divided by a wooden partition into a waiting room, with benches along the walls, and the medical office itself, with a desk, a medical couch and two wardrobes.
One with medicines, the other with instruments, sterilizers, bandages, cotton wool.
The next day, in the morning, I went to the village council and received clarifications on the organization of work. I returned to the first-aid post, and there the hostess of the hut was already waiting for me.
We met. A woman in her forties, a widow. Her husband was killed in the war. Two kids. She herself lived with her parents, and gave the hut to the village council for rent, so that a first-aid post was located there.
She showed me where to get firewood for the stove, where the toilet house is located, where to go to the well for water, how best to kindle the stove, and, most importantly, where the can of kerosene is and how to use kerosene gas. There was such a device there, in order to boil syringes and other tools in the sterilizer.
In a word, Glasha (that was the name of the woman) helped me a lot to get comfortable.
For two days I washed, scrubbed floors and benches, treated with bleach, put things in order in the rooms, and on the third day I began to receive patients.
There were two entrances to the hut. One from the road to the emergency department, and the other from the yard to the kitchenette. The kitchen was partitioned off from the office with a wall with a door.
I conduct the reception, I listen to the child with a phonendoscope, and I myself hear someone walking in the kitchen. But I'm afraid to go there.
Then I hear someone enter the reception area. I recognized the hostess, Glasha, by her voice.
What she first said, I did not hear well. Some mumbling. And then Glasha says:
“Women, I’ve just been in the kitchenette, the feldsher has nothing to eat. Look what I found.
She, apparently, showed my kolobs to those sitting in line.
Someone in line asked:
-So what's going on? Does the nurse eat cow cakes out of hunger?
- And what am I talking about, - added Glasha, - a very thin girl. Soon she will need to heal herself. Baba, I think, go home and bring at least some food.
I hear the queue is moving. The door began to slam. Then, after half an hour or an hour, the queue began to gather again.
Until late in the evening she led the reception, and only closer to sunset was she able to receive everyone. When I went to the emergency department, I found bundles on the windowsill, on the benches and even under them. And in them there is a whole wealth for me: where are the potatoes in their uniforms, where are the beets, where are the loaves of bread. And someone even put a boiled egg.
Word quickly spread throughout the village that I was starving, and in the following days I also found small packages of food.
A few days later, a secretary came from the village council and began to scold me for not saying anything about the fact that I had absolutely no money and practically no food. Gradually, she stopped swearing and slipped me a statement, where I signed for twenty rubles, issued as an advance payment on account of my future salary.
Glasha suggested for a ruble every three days to bring a large bowl of milk and several slices of bread.
That's how I survived. Didn't die of hunger.
A month later, she received her first salary, as much as three hundred and seventy-five rubles. The advance payment was deducted from them, but still, by village standards, it turned out to be a lot of money.
The chairman of the village council went to Darovskoye, and I gave him one hundred and fifty rubles to my aunt, my mother's sister, who lived with her husband in the district center, and she, in turn, gave them to her father, who came to the district with a convoy to hand over collective farm products.
The younger brother later recalled:
- Your money, Ninochka, perhaps, saved us. Of course, by that time they had already begun to dig up potatoes and pull spikelets of barley from the garden, but for the most part they still ate beet tops, turnips, and cabbage leaves and onion feathers. And then the father returned. He brought half a pound of rye flour, linseed oil, salt, a kilogram of sugar, and even a small bag of candy. Then, for the first time that year, they ate their fill of bread and boiled potatoes with onions and linseed oil.
In the following months, I sent home a hundred rubles apiece. It didn't work anymore. It was already necessary to pay on loans for the restoration of the national economy, and it was necessary to gradually settle down. Life began with one dress, a pair of panties, and a coat turned from a soldier's overcoat.
And the food really got better. The village council was rich. In the sense that the surrounding collective farms were located on the high bank of the Moloma River, where the land was more fertile and even in lean years, good grain was born.
The following spring, the village council gave me about fifteen acres of land near the hut for a garden. Thanks to Glasha and the visiting father, they managed to plow it up and plant it with potatoes, oats and rye. On the land that had taken a break, the harvest turned out to be huge, such that it was enough not only for me for the next winter, but to load a whole wagon for my relatives so that they could turn over debts on loans and taxes.
That's how I, son, survived.

Gavi (pcs) - 15 rubles.

In India cow dung considered a very valuable product. To understand the value of cow dung, you need to know the philosophy associated with the cow.

In the Vedic tradition, a cow is considered a blissful higher animal, she is revered as a mother, as a nurse. There is a whole cult of worship of this sacred animal, and this is not just religious dogma, but a well-founded reverence for this wonderful animal.

Why is a cow so good? Firstly, a cow is a peaceful animal - a vegetarian, in the course of its life it does not harm anyone, does not kill anyone, and all the products of its life, including manure and urine, are useful.

Secondly, a cow is a nurse, her milk feeds not only a calf, but also people. Cow's milk, in itself, is a valuable product full of love. From it we get a wide variety of nutritious dairy products, including ghee. A very important Ayurvedic product.

An Indian proverb says: “A cow is an ideal mother. Her udder has four teats: one for the calf, the second for guests, including birds and animals, the third for using milk in religious rituals, and the fourth for the owner. With milk, a cow thanks people for their care. When a woman loses milk after childbirth, babies are fed with cow's milk. That is why the cow in India is treated like a mother. Indian cows are full of love for their calves, sometimes she has to look at a calf, as milk begins to ooze from her udder.

Thirdly, cow urine is a medicine and is widely used in Ayurvedic medicine.

Thus, any cow product benefits.

Now let's talk about cow dung.

Everyone knows that manure is an excellent fertilizer, but it is valued not only for these properties. In India, hot summers and the sun's rays can dry cow dung to a state of rusk. Furnaces are heated with dry cow cakes, food is cooked on them, as they smolder like coals and give a good temperature. Food cooked on fire from cow dung is considered very healthy and blissful.

Cow dung gives powerful protection on the subtle plane; ethereal entities and asuras (demons) do not like it. In southern India, cow dung diluted with water is used to smear the entrances to temples and dwellings. The dwellings themselves are usually washed with cow dung. To do this, it is enough to dilute a small amount of manure (a pinch) in water and wipe the floor. Smoke from cow dung cleanses the space, scares away subtle entities. Most Indian incense is based on cow dung.

Compressed manure compares favorably with manure in the form of a powder. The powder is intended for washing the home and only. By pinching off a small piece from a pancake, you can get a powder for washing floors. The mugs themselves can still be set on fire, they will smolder, emitting smoke, which can be used to fumigate the dwelling, thereby purifying the space on the subtle plane.

If in a dream you make cakes, it means that in life you will be very lucky in the lottery or some kind of gambling. There are cakes in a dream - success in professional activity will not keep you waiting. If you overcooked your cakes or they burned you to a charcoal crust, this dream portends that you will make your loved ones worry very much about your life, thereby urging you to be more careful in dealing with strangers.

Underdone tortillas, raw inside - you will be lucky in creating the perfect married couple in which the husband will constantly turn a blind eye to the shortcomings of his wife, considering it his primary duty to earn as much as possible more money, because of which he simply will not have time for the rest, and you will be left to yourself, if not bathing in luxury, then at least plunging into it from time to time.

If you bake cakes from cornmeal- in reality, this portends the fulfillment of passionate desires. Eating cakes made from it means that you will unwisely create obstacles for yourself on the path to success.

Interpretation of dreams from Dream Interpretation alphabetically

Dream Interpretation - Cow

You bring a cow or a ram into the house - portends joy.

Riding a cow you enter the city - portends a joyful event in the near future.

To lead a cow on a rope uphill is wealth and nobility.

A yellow cow comes into the house - ahead of wealth and nobility.

The cow comes out of the gate - indicates that something good is about to happen.

Entering the city riding a cow is a joyful event in the near future.

A calf is born to a cow - everything that was desired will be fulfilled.

The cow butts - failures in everyday affairs.

A buffalo enters the house - portends mourning.

Cow, bull climb the mountainside - great happiness and prosperity, good luck.

Interpretation of dreams from

Toussaint is not only the land of love and wine, but also a fabulous place where cows fall straight from the sky, and even kill people...

An order announcement can be taken on the notice board in the village of Floviv, which is located across the river in the eastern lands of Toussaint. After reading the order, go to the local quarries - east of the village itself.

In the quarries, go down to the bottom of the quarry.

There you will find a manager who is trying in every way to get people to work, but the workers believe that God's punishment has befallen them. During the conversation, it turns out that their comrade was crushed by a cow, to death. And the cow itself fell from the sky.

We leave for the second quarry, where we will have to deal with the corpse-eaters who escaped to the smell of carrion.

Examine the cow using the dialogue options.

After inspect the broken crane a little higher than the cow. Geralt will come to the conclusion that the young lizard stole the cow, carried it to the nest, dropped the cow and accidentally the cow fell on the miner. The lizard itself shook in the air, hit the crane and was injured.

Follow the trail of blood that will lead you to an old distillery where moonshine was made. Deal with the scavengers and inspect the bloody stains left by the sought-after lizard. Also at the distillery you can find the remains of the owner and interesting entries in the diary. Follow the blood trail.

Eventually you will come to a place where the trail ends.

This is just the vicinity of Fort Ussar, where. Climb up, there you will find two fire-breathing lizards and a nest with eggs. Kill the beistii and take the trophy.

If you beat there already before (like me) and killed the lizards, then anyway go up to the nest and pick up the trophy (which appeared there by magic). Burn the eggs if necessary.

Horse, cats and cow. Fairy tale.

One Saturday, I bought tea, milk and dryers and went to the country. Since I was much older than I was before, I have been doing this every week. Each, each, you can be sure. And from my next birthday, I even stopped skipping and I go there without any passes, like a tram along a government route.

Otherwise, I can’t, now in my country house the horse lives in a barn. By the way, she calls the barn a stable and takes offense at the barn, so don't give me away if she asks. Ask? He asks, he asks, she is like that.

I never thought that all sorts of folk speculations with beliefs in reality can come true. When they said that as soon as a person is given a fourth horseshoe for good luck, then his horse should start right away. Or a horse. In general, from childhood I was sure that if a person washes his hands before eating, brushes his teeth in the morning and evening and takes a shower a couple of times a day, then he can’t even start a little thing, let alone a horse. And she took it and came after the fourth horseshoe. And lives. Together with the cats in the sara ... in the stable, that is. Cats protect horse hay from mice, and the horse prepares tea with milk for them on a primus stove. I bring tea with milk, and the horse earns its own money for hay. I let her take a lawn mower and a cart. With a mower, she mows the lawns for the grass for her neighbors, and with a cart she is busy with trifles. That's how they live.

I got to the dacha well, only for a long time. On foot, by subway, by train, by bus, then again on foot. I ate two sushki along the way. Hungry because. But tea with milk is intact, that's all. I go up to the gate, and there is some kind of ruin. Someone gnawed my lilac, broke a small oak tree, turned the birch out of the ground along with the peg to which it was tied so that it would not break from the wind. And right in front of the gate there is a cow cake.

I am almost a country person, although I came from the city. And for those who are quite a city dweller, I will explain. Cow cakes are somewhat different from, say, Uzbek cakes. First of all, the fact that the Uzbeks bake and eat their cakes, but the cows do not. They, frankly, do the opposite with cakes. They do it anywhere and right in front of my gate in particular.

True, it was not so much the cake that angered me, the cake, after all, is fertilizer. Broken trees upset me. Pity the trees. He planted, watered, brought up practically. How could. And they were broken. And the bushes in front of the fence were tyrannized by someone. Quite an outrageous thing, because there are delicious berries in the bushes.

While I was upset and indignant at the back of the road, the white Volga stopped.

Hello! - this is a neighbor without leaving the car greets in a military way. He is a military man, only retired. But a whole lieutenant general at once.

You, - he strictly asks me upset and indignant, - have you seen my cow? The cow is gone. Looked all over, nowhere to be found. And the tracks lead straight to your site.

So who has brought ruin and disorder here, which means - when I am upset, I will be stricter than any general, - your cow? The lilac has gnawed, the oak has broken, the birch has been uprooted, the bushes are all broken, and now I have to jump into the gate so as not to fall into this very thing. Your cow, you say, inherited?

No, my cow is a decent animal, accustomed to discipline for at least two, - the general immediately backs down, - she couldn’t do such a thing, I probably made a mistake in the tracks. And this other cow misbehaved.

The general backs down - this is understandable: which general is responsible for the hunt for cow tricks. None.

Only there is no other cow in our village. There is only one, a general. Red with white spots. And on the site I have quietly suspicious. No horse walks, no cats show up. Cats generally meet me near the gate. They have a nose for milk. The horse is also polite. He comes out and greets you first. I'm still some kind of, but the owner. Especially with dryers I come. Salty.

Well, I immediately go to the barn, to the stable, that is. He knocked and opened the door. Not so everything. It is immediately felt.

Hello, - I say, - ours to you with a brush, tea, milk and dryers.

We weren't expecting you, but you came close, - this is the oldest cat meowed. She is completely rural. With street education. For a word in a pocket never climbs. Because she doesn't have pockets. But all sorts of words in bulk. There are decent ones among them, but, basically, that's all. So she is kind, she even knows how to purr, but she will not be rude either.

Somehow you unexpectedly arrived, - the horse came out to meet me after all, - we didn’t expect you so early.

Didn't you wait? - I am surprised, pretending so, but I myself hear that someone is puffing behind a pile of hay in the barn. Puffs and champs more, - Yeah. I have been coming for three years at the same time, why wait for me. You don't have to wait for me, I'll be there anyway. By the way, have you seen a cow around here? A neighbor's cow disappeared, and traces lead to our yard.

We did not see any cow, red with white spots and in a collar - these are almost the younger cats in chorus - we buy milk all the time in the store, or you bring it, and we only saw cows in the pictures in Brem's encyclopedia.

Any cat will lie cheaply, everyone knows this, but our borders have already been crossed. In the corner they puff, champ, one horn sticks out from behind the hay, and they only saw it in pictures. More in Brem's encyclopedia. It is interesting, however, how they know about the life of animals. But we will find out later, and first we will deal with the current cow.

Okay, - says the horse, - you can’t hide this anyway. Come out and let's get to know each other.

She is talking to a cow. There’s nowhere for me to go out, I’m already in the middle of the barn ... that is, I’m standing in the stables. I talk to cats.

I wish you good health, comrade owner, - a cow comes out from behind the hay, - the foreman of the first cow articles, Fly, I introduce myself about the arrival at the new place of the stall.

Nifiga myself applications, I think. And then there's the horse:

Really. We thought about it and decided. May he live with us. The general drilled her completely, you yourself see how he talks. It's a pity she has no strength.

Go take a break, and we'll crack for now - this horse is already addressing the cow.

I obey! - the cow turned around, clicking its hooves in a military way, and went back to itself for hay, starting from both left legs, as it should be in the army.

So we decided, - the horse continued, and the cats nodded their eared heads, - let him live with us and that's it. A cow is a gentle animal, it is necessary to treat it with affection, and not, according to the charter of the military service, do stepping. And she was named after the grenade launcher and they make her sing at the evening verification and “fight back” while the match is burning.

You have decided, - I say, - only it turns out that you whistled a cow from the general, and I will answer. General, he's going to complain to the police about me. It's useless to complain about you. You say that a horse and cats have taken a cow from the yard, so no one will take any measures, but if a neighbor stole a cow, then they will immediately drag him by the collar and into a jail.

Allow me to appeal, - it was heard from behind the hay, - the general needs to offer money for me, he won’t take much, because I lose my marching pace and confuse left with right. The general wanted to hand me over to the guardhouse for this. So I left. Equal, quietly, - the cow added neither to the village nor to the city and fell silent.

You see, - the horse continued to work on me, - to the guardhouse. It was he who told her that in the guardhouse, - the horse went into a whisper, - he wanted to hand it over for meat, honestly. So, whatever you want, go to the general and negotiate.

Negotiate, negotiate, - but for now I’ll primus the stoker, the eldest cat supported the horse, we’ll drink tea with milk. We are now given fresh milk twice a day. Not like your city from the refrigerator.

And lilac, and birch? Who cut the bushes? I don’t ask about the obstacle near the gate, everything is clear to me with the obstacle.

Excuse me, let me ask you, - the cow is still giving a voice because of the hay, - but while I was knocking on the gate, a little trouble happened. You don’t have a call, while you rush to open it, anything can happen. And I accidentally tried the lilac, it is tasteless with you. I won’t do it again, I obey, that’s for sure.

We will repair the bushes, remove the obstacle, - says the horse, - while you and the general will negotiate, we will even plant a new birch, and use the obstacle as fertilizer. You go.

Go, go, - the younger cats support the horse, - you get a solid benefit: now you don’t need to carry milk from the city, now you will carry milk to the city.

You can't argue against that kind of logic. I also liked the cow. She mows the lawn very well. Cleaner than any lawn mower. And it does not require gasoline with electricity. I have the last argument.

But what about, - I ask the horse, - a horse? After all, in a month they should give me a fourth horseshoe again for good luck. You yourself said that now the horse might appear. And where will he live if we take a cow with us? The shed is not rubber.

Better a cow in a barn than a horse in your apartment, - the horse remarked philosophically, - and will there be another one, this horse? And here is the cow. You can be friends with her right now.

And I went to the general. Negotiate about the cow. And it turns out that everyone I have is kind: a good horse, good cats. Only I am angry and doubting. No, it won't. A cow more, a cow less - it doesn't matter anymore, after all, when there is a horse.

Went to the general to negotiate. And agreed.

Now, when I go to the dacha, I don’t bring milk from the city. Only dry tea. Dryers, however, have to be bought twice as much, but this is not the main thing. The main thing is that they are waiting for me at the dacha a little more than before. And fresh milk now. I wish you good health, true, but this is also not the main thing.