Dandelion wine

Walter A. Bradbury, not an uncle or cousin, but certainly a publisher and friend.

The morning was quiet, the city, shrouded in darkness, lay peacefully in bed. Summer came, and the wind was summer - the warm breath of the world, slow and lazy. You just have to get up, lean out the window, and you will immediately understand: here it begins, real freedom and life, here it is, the first morning of summer.

Douglas Spaulding, 12 years old, had just opened his eyes and, as if in a warm river, sank into the predawn serenity. He lay in a vaulted room on the fourth floor - there was no higher tower in the whole town - and because he was soaring so high in the air, coupled with the June wind, miraculous power was born in him. At night, when the elms, oaks and maples merged into one restless sea, Douglas looked around him with a gaze that pierced the darkness, literally a lighthouse. And now... - That’s great! - he whispered. There is a whole summer ahead, an uncountable number of days – almost half a calendar. He already saw himself with many arms, like the deity Shiva from the book about travel: just keep up with picking still greenish apples, peaches, and plums dark as night (that is, the dark time of day) . You can’t take him out of the forest, from the bushes, from the river. How pleasant it will be to freeze, climbing into a frosty glacier, how fun it will be to fry in grandma’s kitchen along with a thousand chickens!

In the meantime, let's get to work!

(Once a week he was allowed to spend the night not in the house next door, where his ancestors and his little brother Tom slept, but here, in his grandfather’s tower; he ran up the black spiral staircase to the very top and went to bed in the magician’s abode given to us, in the midst of thunder and visions, and early in the morning, when even the milkman was not yet clinking bottles in the streets, he woke up and began to perform sacred magic.)

Standing in the darkness by the open window, he took a deep breath and blew with all his might.

The street lights went out instantly, literally candles on a black birthday cake. Douglas blew again, and the stars began to fade in the sky.

Douglas smiled. Pointed his finger.

Here and there. Now here and here...

In the pre-dawn fog, rectangles cut through one after another - lights came on in the houses. A little far away, a whole series of windows suddenly lit up on the dawn land.

- Yawn everyone! Everyone get up! The big house below became animated.

- Grandfather, take your teeth out of the glass! – Douglas waited a little. - Grandmother and great-grandmother, fry pancakes!

A draft carried the warm spirit of fried dough through all the corridors, and in all the rooms countless aunts, uncles, cousins, who had come here to stay, were buzzing.

- Street of Old Men, wake up! Miss Helen Loomis, Colonel Freeley, Mrs. Bentley! Cough, stand up, swallow your pills, move! Mr. Jonas, harness up the horse, get the wagon out of the barn, it's time to go get some junk!

On the other side of the ravine, gloomy houses opened their dragon eyes. Soon two old women will appear below in an electronic greenish car and drive along the morning streets, waving greetings to every dog they meet.

- Mr. Tridden, run to the tram depot! And soon a tram will float along the narrow channels of the cobbled streets, scattering hot blue sparks around.

- John Hough, Charlie Woodman, are you ready? – Douglas whispered to the Street of Children. - Ready? - he asked the question of the baseballs that were wet in the dewy meadows, of the empty rope swings that hung, bored, from the trees.

- Mom, dad, Tom, wake up!

Alarm clocks rang quietly. Gulko struck the clock at the courthouse. Literally a net cast by his hand, birds flew up from the trees and began to sing. Conducting his orchestra, Douglas imperiously extended his hand to the east.

And the sun rose.

Douglas crossed his arms over his chest and smiled like a real wizard. That’s it, he thought: as soon as I gave the order, everyone jumped up, everyone ran around. It's going to be a good summer!

And he ended up looking around the city and snapping his fingers. The doors of houses opened and people came out into the street. The summer of nineteen twenty eight has begun.

That morning, while walking through a clearing, Douglas came across a net. An invisible thread touched his forehead and silently burst.

And this trifling option made him wary: the day would be different from everyone else. Not like that, moreover, because there are days woven from only smells, as if the whole world can be sucked in with your nose, like air: inhaled and exhaled, - this is how the father explained to Douglas and his ten-year-old brother Tom when he was taking them in a car out of town. And on other days, my father said, you can hear any thunder and any rustle in the universe. Some days it’s great to taste it, and others it’s good to touch. And there are times when everything is there right away. For example, now it smells as if one night (that is, the dark time of day) there, behind the hills, out of nowhere, a large orchard appeared, and everything up to the horizon is fragrant. There is a smell of rain in the air, but there is not a cloud in the sky. Just look, someone unknown will start laughing in the forest, but for now it’s quiet there...

Dandelion wine

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About the book “Dandelion Wine”

The story “Dandelion Wine” by Ray Bradbury is partly autobiographical. It is recognized as one of his most successful books. The story differs tangibly in its writing style and sensibility from other books. The works of Ray Bradbury constantly carry hidden meaning within themselves, sometimes so deep that it is even difficult to catch it. Dandelion Wine is no exception. The book is more like a kaleidoscope of small stories, stories, events that are bright and sensual.

First, the action takes place around two brothers, Douglas and Thomas. The kids have a grandfather who gives them dandelions to pick for a small fee. Then he makes wine from them. In fact, this is what gave the novel its title in the first place. The story takes place during the 1st summer and describes their everyday summer rituals. Everything is very carefully and brightly, that it seems as if you feel the warmth of the warming sun.

Then faces and situations change, and only Douglas remains the constant hero. The situations are described through the perception of the world by this little boy. Therefore, it is not always easy to find where reality is intertwined with fantasy. This is what creates the special spirit of the story.

Ray Bradbury's "Dandelion Wine" raises a fundamental question about happiness. People are constantly in search of happiness, thinking that it is somewhere far away. They want to create something, go somewhere in order to achieve it. They are always missing something.

Here this idea helps to reflect the creation of a happiness machine, which, as it turns out, does not bring joy. As a result, the machine broke down, which, naturally, carries a certain meaning. A time machine, represented by a {living} person who very carefully and vividly describes the past, also does not change anything in the real and the future. This machine also broke down: Colonel Freeley died. In the end, it turns out that happiness exists here and at the moment. Real life, such as it is, is happiness.

On our website you can download the book “Dandelion Wine” by Bradbury Ray Douglas free of charge and without registration in fb2, rtf, epub, pdf, txt format, read the book online or purchase the book in the online store.

Readers' worldview

After reading the book, I wanted to go back 25 years and to the village to visit my grandparents

And this is the rarest option when the book does not require any deep meaning or specific conclusion

Homemade dandelion wine

For literature lovers, Dandelion Wine is an autobiographical story by Ray Bradbury, published in 1957. Few lovers of the writer’s work know that a similar drink can be prepared at home. We'll look at the full recipe below. The result will be a light yellow wine with a light floral aroma and a pleasant soft taste.

Dandelion flowers are collected from late April to mid-July in warm sunny weather, when they have just opened: early in the morning or in the first half of the day. After 3 hours the buds are uniformly closed. Immediately after the rain, dandelions do not have time to collect nectar, which is why the wine has a weak smell. Only flowers grow far from the road and other dusty places.

All containers used should be previously sterilized with boiling water, then wiped dry so as not to contaminate the wine with pathogenic microbes.

Ingredients:

dandelion flowers – 100 pieces (liter jar);
water – 4 liters;
sugar – 1.5 kg;
lemons (huge) – 2;
unwashed raisins – 100 g;
fresh mint - 3-4 sprigs (optional).

Lemons are necessary to stabilize the acidity of the wort and flavor the drink with zest. It is possible to do without zest, but adding citric acid (10-12 g) is absolutely necessary. Raisins contain wild wine yeast, which activates fermentation. Mint gives a pleasant smell and light flavor notes.

Dandelion wine recipe

1. Separate the yellowish dandelion petals from the receptacle. This can be done with a knife, cutting off the petals near the base, or by hand, tearing off any flowers.

If you use whole buds, the wine will turn out bitter!

2. Place the prepared petals in a saucepan and pour boiling water (4 liters). Mix. To cover with a lid. Quit for a day.

3. Strain the infusion through a sieve or cheesecloth into a container with a wide neck. Squeeze the petals and remove. They won't be useful anymore.

4. Rinse lemons in warm water and wipe dry. Using a knife or vegetable peeler, carefully remove the zest (the upper yellowish part) from the fruit, without touching the snow-white, bitterish pulp.

5. Squeeze the juice from peeled lemons directly into the dandelion decoction. Add sugar (500 g), zest, mint and unwashed raisins. Stir until sugar dissolves. Tie the neck of the container with gauze. Transfer the wort to a black space at room temperature.

6. After 2-3 days, signs of fermentation should appear: foam on the surface, hissing, a slight sour smell. It is necessary to add the next portion of sugar - 500 g, mix.

7. Pour the wort into a fermentation container (fill to a maximum of 75% of its size), having previously filtered out the zest, mint and raisins. Place a water seal on the container or a honey glove with a hole made with a needle in one of the fingers.

Water seal designs for wine, mash and beer

8. Transfer the container with the future dandelion wine to a black room (can be covered) with a temperature of 18-25°C.

9. After 5-6 days, add a third portion of sugar - 250 g. To do this: remove the water seal, pour 250 ml of wort through a straw into a separate container, dilute sugar in it, pour the finished syrup back into the container with wine and install the water seal.

10. After another 5 days, repeat the function of adding sugar (250 g) according to the technology described in the previous step.

11. Depending on the temperature and yeast activity, fermentation of dandelion wine lasts 25-60 days. When the water seal does not emit gas for a day (the glove has deflated), a layer of sediment has appeared on the bottom, and the wine itself has become lighter, you can move on.

If the wine ferments for longer than 50 days, it is necessary to drain it from the sediment through a straw into another container, then leave it to ferment under a water seal. If left on the lees for a long time, bitterness may appear.

12. Drain the fermented dandelion wine from the sediment through a straw. Try it. If desired, add sugar to taste. Separately, you can fix the drink with vodka or alcohol (40-45%) in an amount of 2-15% of the size of the wine. But the fixation kills the light floral scent.

Dandelion wine

Walter A. Bradbury, not an uncle or cousin, but certainly a publisher and friend

The morning was quiet, the city, shrouded in darkness, lay peacefully in bed.

Summer came, and the wind was summer - the warm breath of the world, slow and lazy.

You just have to get up, lean out the window, and you will immediately understand: here it begins, real freedom and life, here it is, the first morning of summer.

Douglas Spalding, 12 years old, had just opened his eyes and, as if in a warm river, sank into the predawn serenity. He lay in a vaulted room on the fourth floor - there was no higher tower in the whole town - and because he was soaring so high in the air, coupled with the June wind, miraculous power was born in him. At night, when the elms, oaks and maples merged into one restless sea, Douglas looked around him with a gaze that pierced the darkness, literally a lighthouse. And now.

- That's great! - he whispered.

There is a whole summer ahead, an uncountable number of days – almost half a calendar. He already saw himself with many arms, like the deity Shiva from the book about travel: just keep up with picking still greenish apples, peaches, and plums dark as night (that is, the dark time of day) . You can’t take him out of the forest, from the bushes, from the river. How pleasant it will be to freeze, climbing into a frosty glacier, how fun it will be to fry in grandma’s kitchen along with a thousand chickens!

In the meantime, let's get to work!

(Once a week he was allowed to spend the night not in the house next door, where his ancestors and his little brother Tom slept, but here, in his grandfather’s tower; he ran up the black spiral staircase to the very top and went to bed in the magician’s abode given to us, in the midst of thunder and visions, and early in the morning, when even the milkman was not yet clinking his bottles in the streets, he woke up and began to perform sacred magic.) Standing in the darkness by the open window, he took a full lungful of air and blew with all his might.

The street lights went out instantly, literally candles on a black birthday cake.

Douglas blew again, and the stars began to fade in the sky.

Douglas smiled. Pointed his finger.

Here and there. Now here and here.

In the pre-dawn fog, rectangles cut through one after another - lights came on in the houses. Far, far away, on the dawning earth, a whole series of windows suddenly lit up.

- Yawn everyone! Everyone get up! The big house below became animated.

- Grandfather, take your teeth out of the glass! – Douglas waited a little. - Grandmother and great-grandmother, fry pancakes!

A draft carried the warm spirit of fried dough through all the corridors, and in all the rooms countless aunts, uncles, cousins, who had come here to stay, were buzzing.

On the other side of the ravine, gloomy houses opened their dragon eyes.

Soon two old women will appear below in an electronic greenish car and drive along the morning streets, waving greetings to every dog they meet.

- Mr. Tridden, run to the tram depot! And soon a tram will float along the narrow channels of the cobbled streets, scattering hot blue sparks around.