The first snow came in early winter.

Winter has come, quietly, silently, without flowers, the wind has not stopped, year after year, people come and go in a hurry, years are like arrows, flowers are similar year after year, and people are different year after year.

The cool breeze blew away the homesickness in autumn; Looking back and turning around, the strings of time played a faint winter. The fading of autumn, the disconnection of pages in time, and the leisurely painting.

Night talk around the stove, warm wine to make tea.

The coolness outside the window and the warmth inside; Rain outside the window, fireworks inside the window. Steamed dumplings are the first commemoration in winter.

Around the dining table, three or five friends, chatting all over the world, recalling the story of time. Drink tea, talk endlessly, make tea and stew slowly.

Cold stove, good wine and warm. Without the fragrance of wine, the sweetness of corn juice will last for a long time. In the slightly cold winter, there is a warm current in my heart.

The story of a lifetime, how many words have been left and how many landscapes have been engraved. The flow of the four seasons, through sadness, turns to missing, and the silence in the wind stays in the four seasons. Looking forward to seeing the first snow.

Meet a fate, meet, accompany, leave, time sealed, in the pages, collect, sink into the bottom of the past. There are jingling wind chimes, passing through the silent time; There are cool nights to catch up with the current season; Waiting in the depths of affection, waiting for the direction of the heart; Warm tea soothes a little cold; There is a lamp to illuminate people who come home on a snowy night.

The gentleness of time, how many places we have traveled, how many lakes and mountains we have traveled, how many streets and lanes we have traveled, how many good seasons we have seen, and how many dusk sunsets we have seen have made our hearts calm, calm and elegant. Quiet as snow, sinking aside, comfortable.

Pictures are kneaded into memories of time, which are repeated in spring, summer, autumn and winter without repeating its beauty, quietness and profundity.

Under the background of branches, the season has doomed its direction; Life is in samsara, and fate has already doomed its birth. In the middle of winter, when is the first snow destined to float?

I like this season, not only because of the heavy snow, the snow is beautiful and the earth is still. More because, after Qian Fan, after four seasons, you are still yourself.

Turning around and looking back, autumn is already a story, and winter is already a prelude. Autumn is here, beginning of winter is here, it's cold all the way, may winter be safe!

May beauty connect with you, beautiful scenery, beautiful people, and do it with compassion.

For a long time, snow can't stand winter.

Warm cooking in winter is a touch of expectation.

Look at the snow, enjoy the winter, that's all.