Every year it became more and more difficult for my Grandma to take care of the vegetable plot. Still, she grew so many potatoes, cabbages and carrots during the summer that we had enough for almost the whole year.

My Grandma never obliged anyone to help her. She alone dug the soil, loosened it, and carried water from the well for irrigation.

At some point all this work became impossible for her, and she began to talk about selling the dacha.

I was partly happy about this decision, although I loved our cottage very much. I was a teenager at the time, and more than going to the dacha, I wanted to stay in Moscow for the summer to see my friends.

I took this picture the last time I went there with my Grandma. I took my mother’s camera with me and photographed some memorable places, including this view of the forest from the front door of our cottage: I looked through this door every morning, every day, during breakfast and lunch; our dining table was opposite the door. This view is imprinted in my memory particularly strongly. For many years, this open door was for me the door to a world full of harmony and beauty.