A county in common sense was called several villages, united by a land register, a church parish or geographical features. It could be the first reason, another, and the third together. In some counties, there were several parishes or several communities. Usually, a county was situated along a river or lake. The villages were separated at a small but reasonable distance for fieldwork. People liked to settle on a higher ground overlooking the water.
There were lovely counties and were parishes so-so and sometimes quite shabby. Thus, the Kadnikovsk district of Vologda province county of Kumozero was one of the most beautiful places. The hills bordered along the picturesque lake, villages gravitated to the main village with the church visible for many miles around.
Not for nothing, the county was a place for the provincial Fair. It is challenging to imagine some other, more typical of the peasant life of the community than the county life.
The county has always had its own name, was distinguished by a unique vitality and rarely yielded to administrative evisceration. It also sported its peculiar dialect and had its soul and guardian angel.
Like the nerves of a living body, kinship thoroughly permeated it, although marrying outside of their county was considered more attractive. All adult residents knew each other in person and by hearsay. And if they didn't know, then they sought to find out. "Whose are you, boy?" - asked a rider, a boy opening the gates. Or: "I, my dear, from Verkhoturie come, Ivan Clay's niece, but got married (again, should be the exact address) to Antip (an ongoing detailed account of who, where, and whose cousin this Antip)." Or: "It hurts so good the girls are; where you from gorgeous?" Something like this or that would start all the talk. Life of the county didn't tolerate ambiguous words, nameless people, secret affairs and locked gates during daylight hours.
No comments:
Post a Comment