Sholokhov's Country estate in Veshenskaya Stanitsa
Sholokhov's Country estate is the centre of the memorial complex. A light two-storey house with a balcony and terrace, facing South is in the centre of the estate. A garden path leads to the Don river. The trees growing along the steep bank used to be short and didn't hide Don.
The estate was built in 1949 instead of the old prewar house with an attic story, which was destroyed by the stanitsa's bombing. The writer's mother Anastasia Danilovna perished during this bombing.
On entering the yard you are welcomed by the acacia and lime-tree, on entering the house - poplars and birch-trees and guarding fur-trees. Birch-trees, pines, Lombardy poplar and oaks surround the house. To the right of the house entrance there are some bushes of lilac of different colours - light, dark and white. Everything in the house reminds of Mikhail Aleksandrovich. Inner arrangement, pictures, books, souvenirs are still on their historical places.
In the hall guests were warmly met by the hosts and invited to go to the study. The dining-room could be called the most favourite in the house. It was not only a room where meals were taken, but a meeting place . Family problems were solved here at the kitchen table. They joked and had fun there in a word led their full life. Sitting at table nobody noticed how time flue by.
The study on the first floor is a big light room with a balcony door and windows facing the South. Each thing here had its particular place, the writer didn't like when anything was changed. Next to the study was a "hunting" room. All the preparations for hunting or fishing were done there by all the members of the family. On the first floor there is also a small study, where the author worked over his manuscripts.
The writer's grave is in the yard of the memorial estate. Sholokhov has passed away, but human hearts still aspire towards him. You can always see fresh flowers on Mikhail Aleksandrovich's and Mary Petrovna's graves. Sholokhov's name is still alive, it hasn't sunk into oblivion. One feel it the memorial-house more than in any other place.
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