days are always in a hurry. The four seasons are reincarnated, and when I recall my simple childhood, it always looks like an old warm yellow newspaper. The four seasons are still alternating as always, as if it is an ever-changing truth. It's the end of the year again...
The sun seemed a little shy, hiding behind a few clouds, retracting its own heat, and the only part of the heat drifted out. The biting cold wind whistled and people trembled. The beautiful flowers of the past also fell asleep at this time.
In such cold weather, you can also see strong men who are not afraid of the cold - rows of evergreen trees on the side of the road, proudly straightening their chests, dotted with the cold winter.
Winter, pure coolness, deep coldness, long scarves, thick clothes.
When I was a child, I always waited until the snowflakes slowly fell from the sky before I felt that winter was coming again. Looking out through the window, people wrapped themselves tightly, appearing bulky and funny. The trees beside the streets waving clean branches in the wind, which is completely different from the green appearance of spring.
When a snowflake fell on my shoulders, a trace of inexplicable feeling flashed in my eyes. Many children on the street couldn't wait to run out and ran wildly in the snow. Occasionally I grabbed a handful of snow, threw it into other people's faces without any scruples, and then ran away with a loud laugh, laughter rippling throughout the road.
The cold winter, without the vitality of spring, without the vitality of summer, and without the simplicity of autumn, winter has always given people calmness and silence, but it is a peaceful scene.
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