’m standing alone on the shore, waving my hand, my heart is sinking, and i can’t do anything, viktor charakovot, because i encountered a vegetable garden in early childhood, i dug, i helped my mother, once they received six hundred square meters from the plant, and at home i remember it cost 700 rubles of those soviet ones, we are there on the outskirts of the dacha with comrade, let's try the perspective, that's what they say. the sixties were the time of the soviet spring, when people became cramped in their apartments , everyone dreamed of getting a piece of land where they could work and relax their soul and body. the size of the plots was strictly limited to six acres. this rate was calculated by agronomists and economists sufficient to build a house and plant a garden for the whole family. i want to plant linden on the plot. well, you can have linden trees, or maybe better yet elms, you can do me, you can have elms, but elms take a long time to grow. years, nothing, nothing, we will now live 100 years, you feel the air here, yes, inhale, inhale, here are the houses on the treasured plot