Trees with names for children
The presented cards must be printed on thick paper and laminated for long-term use. Images include the plant itself, tree leaves with names for children.
When learning about flora, children learn that trees are divided into coniferous and deciduous. An adult should explain that the difference lies in the structure of the green parts: coniferous plants have evergreen needles, and deciduous plants have leaf blades that fall off in the winter. On the territory of our country, both trees grow and form deciduous, coniferous and mixed forests.
Deciduous trees growing in our area:
- birch;
- maple;
- oak;
- Rowan;
- poplar;
- willow;
- beech;
- ash;
- chestnut;
- alder;
- aspen;
- Linden;
- elm.
Children need to be explained that, in addition to forest species, there are deciduous fruit trees. In our area we grow:
- apple tree;
- pear;
- cherry;
- cherries;
- peach;
- apricot;
- cherry plum;
- plum
Coniferous trees in our country:
- spruce;
- Scots pine;
- Siberian cedar pine;
- larch;
- fir.
Description of trees for children
In addition to pictures, you should prepare a description of trees for classes. There is no need to overload preschoolers with scientific calculations about plants; a general description and interesting facts are enough.
For example, you can say about the birch tree that it is one of the symbols of Russia. Her beauty has long been compared to that of a young girl. The white bark of a birch is not for decoration, it is protection against sunburn. In ancient times, baskets and other household items were made from birch bark.
Oak is a strong tree, a symbol of male strength, health and longevity. Its fruits are acorns, which deer and wild boars love to feast on.
Willow is also called willow, willow, willow. It is called weeping because of its thin branches hanging over the water, as if a tree is crying. Willow grows only near bodies of water. In ancient times, people were engaged in dowsing - they looked for underground water using willow twigs in order to dig wells in this place.
Horse chestnut is the most beautiful park tree in our country. Its white flowers are collected in large pyramidal inflorescences. The plant got its name because on its ripe brown fruits there is a noticeable pale spot, reminiscent of the mark of a horse's horseshoe.
Maple is the most elegant autumn tree. Its carved leaves turn a variety of shades in autumn, from gold to burgundy.
Linden is the main honey plant. Linden honey is rich in beneficial substances. Linden tea is recommended for colds.
The saying “trembles like an aspen leaf” is associated with aspen. Its leaves are dense and rounded, with a long petiole. The slightest breeze is enough for them to begin to tremble, rub against each other, and rustle.
Poplar is known for its fluff that covers the asphalt in June. Poplar fluff is small tree achenes covered with the finest fibers.
The spruce is the main symbol of Christmas. This is an evergreen species; the needles do not fall off before the arrival of winter.
Larch is the only deciduous coniferous species. She changes her needles every year.
Cedar, or more correctly cedar pine, is known for its delicious and extremely healthy nuts, rich in oils and vitamins.
Hans Christian Andersen's fairy tale "The Last Dream of the Old Oak." Christmas tale
A fairy tale about life - more likely for adults than for children... More precisely, not only for children...
In the forest, high on a steep slope, on the open seashore, there stood an old, old oak tree, and it was exactly three hundred and sixty-five years old - a considerable period of time, but for a tree it’s the same as for us people, the same number of days. We are awake during the day, sleep and dream at night. With a tree the situation is different: the tree is awake for three seasons and falls asleep only in winter. Winter is his time of sleep, his night after a long day - spring, summer and autumn.
On warm summer days, mayflies danced around its crown; they lived, fluttered and were happy, and when one of these tiny creatures in quiet bliss fell to rest on a large fresh leaf, the oak tree said every time:
- Poor thing! Your whole life is just one day! So short... How sad!
- Sadly? - answered the mayfly. - What are you talking about? It’s so light, warm and wonderful all around! I am so glad!
- But just one day - and it’s over!
- End? - said the mayfly. - What's the end? And you too?
- No, maybe I’ll live thousands of your days, my day lasts entire seasons! You can’t even count how long it is!
- No, I don’t understand you! You have thousands of my days, and I have thousands of moments, and in each there is joy and happiness! Well, will all the beauty of the world die with your death?
“No,” answered the oak tree. - The world will exist much longer, endlessly, I can’t even imagine how long!
- So, that means you and I have been given equal amounts, we just count differently!
And the mayfly danced and whirled in the air, rejoicing in its delicate, graceful, transparent velvety wings, rejoicing in the warm air, filled with the smell of clover, rosehip, elderberry and honeysuckle. And how woodruff, primrose and mint smelled! The air was so fragrant that it was time to get drunk from it. What a long and wonderful day it was, full of joy and sweet sensations! And when the sun set, the fly felt such a pleasant tiredness, its wings refused to carry it, it quietly sank onto a soft swaying blade of grass, drooped its head and fell asleep sweetly. It was death.
- Poor things! - said the oak tree. - Their life is too short!
And every summer day the same dance was repeated, the same conversation, answer and falling asleep; This was repeated with entire generations of mayflies, and they were all equally cheerful, equally happy.
The oak was awake in its morning - spring, its noon - summer and its evening - autumn, it was time for him to fall asleep, and his night - winter was approaching.
Then the storms sang: “Good night! Good night! Here a leaf fell, there a leaf fell! We cut them off, we cut them off! Try to sleep! We will lull you to sleep, we will rock you to sleep! Isn't it true how good your old branches are? They are so aching with pleasure! Sleep sweetly, sleep sweetly! This is your three hundred and sixty-fifth night, because you are still like a one-year-old baby! Sweet dreams! The clouds are pouring snow, it will lie like a sheet, a soft blanket around your feet! Sleep sweetly, have pleasant dreams!”
And the oak threw off its leaves, getting ready to rest, preparing to fall asleep, spend the whole long winter in dreams, see in dreams pictures of what they had experienced, as people see them in dreams.
He, too, was once small, and an acorn was his cradle. By human reckoning he was now in his forties. There was no bigger, more magnificent tree in the forest than it. Its top rose high above all the trees and was visible from the sea from afar, serving as a sign for sailors. And the oak tree did not even know how many eyes were looking for it. Wood pigeons nested in its green crown, the cuckoo crowed, and in the fall, when its leaves seemed forged from copper, migratory birds sat on its branches to rest before setting off across the sea. But now, in winter, the oak tree stood without leaves, and one could see how curved and knotty its branches were; crows and jackdaws took turns sitting on them and talking about how difficult the time had come, how difficult it would be to get food in the winter.
On the night before Christmas, the oak tree had the most wonderful dream of its life. Let's listen!
He seemed to feel that the time had come for a holiday, he heard the ringing of bells around him, and dreamed of a warm, quiet summer day. He spread his mighty green crown wide; the sun's rays played between its branches and leaves, the air was filled with the aroma of herbs and bushes; colorful butterflies chased each other; the mayflies danced, as if everything existed only for their dancing and fun. Everything that the oak tree experienced and saw around itself from year to year now passed in front of it as if in a festive procession. He saw mounted knights and ladies of times past, with feathers on their hats and falcons on their arms. They drove through the forest, a hunting horn blew, dogs barked. He saw enemy soldiers in shiny armor and colorful clothes, with pikes and halberds; they pitched tents and then took them down. Campfires were blazing, people were singing and sleeping under the wide-spread branches of the oak tree. He saw happy lovers meeting here in the moonlight and carving the first letter of their names on its isser-green bark. Cheerful wandering apprentices used to hang zithers and Aeolian harps on its branches, and now they hung again and sounded so inviting again. Wood pigeons cooed, as if they wanted to tell how the tree felt, and the cuckoo crowed how many summer days it still had left to live.
And now, as if a new stream of life flowed in him from the smallest roots to the highest branches and leaves. And it seemed to him that he was stretching, he felt life and warmth in the roots there, underground, he felt his strength coming. It grew higher and higher, the trunk quickly, non-stop stretched upward, the crown became thicker, more magnificent, more spreading. And the more the tree grew, the more the joyful thirst grew in it to grow even higher, to rise to the very sun, sparkling and hot.
The top of the oak tree had already risen above the clouds, which were rushing below like flocks of migratory birds or white swans.
The oak tree saw with every leaf, as if everyone had eyes. He saw the stars in the middle of the day, and they were so big and shiny! Each one shone like a pair of clear, gentle eyes, reminiscent of other familiar eyes - the eyes of children and lovers who met under his crown.
The oak experienced wonderful, blissful moments. And yet he missed his forest friends... He so wanted all the other trees, all the bushes, herbs and flowers to rise with him, to feel the same joy, to see the same shine as he did. The mighty oak tree, even in these moments of blissful sleep, was not completely happy: it wanted to share its happiness with everyone - both small and large, and this feeling trembled in every branch, every leaf passionately and ardently, as if in a human breast.
The crown of the oak tree moved as if it was looking for something, as if it was missing something; he looked down and suddenly heard the smell of woodruff, and then an even stronger smell of honeysuckle and violets, and it even seemed to him that he heard a cuckoo.
And then the green tops of the forest peeked through the clouds. The oak saw other trees beneath it, they also grew and stretched upward; bushes and grass too. Some even uprooted themselves from the ground in order to fly faster. In front of everyone was a birch tree; like white lightning, its slender trunk rushed upward, its branches fluttered like green blankets and banners. All the forest plants, even the brown plumes of the reeds, rose to the clouds; birds flew after them with songs, and on a blade of grass, rippling in the wind like a long green ribbon, a grasshopper sat and played with its wing on its thin leg. May beetles hummed, bees buzzed, birds sang at the top of their lungs; everything in the sky sang and rejoiced.
“Where is the red water flower? Let him be with us too! - said the oak tree. “And a blue bell and a little daisy!”
Oak wanted to see everyone near him.
“We are here, we are here!” - was heard from all sides.
“What about last year’s beautiful woodruff? And the carpet of lilies of the valley that was spread here a year ago? And what about the wonderful wild apple tree and all those who decorated the forest for many, many years? If they had lived to see this moment, they would have been with us!”
“We are here, we are here!” - was heard in the heights, as if those who answered had flown right above him.
“No, how good it is, I just can’t believe it! - the old oak tree rejoiced. - They are all here with me, both small and large! Not one is forgotten! Is such happiness possible?
"Everything is possible!" - came the answer.
And the old oak tree, which had not stopped growing, suddenly felt that it was completely separated from the ground.
“Nothing could be better! - he said. - Now no bonds hold me back! I can fly to the very source of light and shine! And all my dear friends are with me! Both small and large - everything!”
"All!"
This is what the old oak dreamed about. And while he was dreaming, a terrible storm raged over the land and sea - it was on Christmas night. The sea rolled heavy waves onto the shore, the oak tree creaked and crackled and was uprooted at the very moment when he dreamed that he was being separated from the earth. The oak tree collapsed... Three hundred and sixty-five years of his life were now like one day for a mayfly.
On Christmas morning, as the sun rose, the storm subsided. Bells rang festively, blue smoke curled from all the chimneys, even from the chimney of the poorest hut, like sacrificial incense on the Druid holiday. The sea became more and more calm, and on the large ship, which had withstood the overnight storm, elegant Christmas flags were raised.
- But the tree is no longer there! The night storm crushed the old oak tree, our landmark on the shore! - said the sailors. - Who will replace him for us? Nobody!
This is the funeral speech, short, but spoken from the heart, that the sailors honored the old oak tree, which had been thrown into the snow by a storm. An ancient song sung by the sailors also reached the oak tree. They sang about Christmas, and the sounds of the song rose high, high to the sky, just as the old oak rose to it in its last dream.
