An essayist who writes winter prose.

For a person who is used to living in Beiping, it is a miracle that it doesn't blow in winter. There is no wind in winter in Jinan. For a person who has just returned from London, it is strange that I can't see the sun in winter; Jinan is sunny in winter.

Naturally, in tropical places, the sun is always so poisonous, so loud and a little scary. However, in winter in the north of China, Jinan is really a treasure house with warm and sunny weather.

If there is only sunshine, it is not surprising. Please close your eyes and think about it: an ancient city with mountains and water is basking in the sun, sleeping warmly and comfortably, just waiting for the spring breeze to wake them up. Is this an ideal realm? The mountain completely surrounds Jinan, except for the lack of some food in the north.

This circle of hills is particularly lovely in winter, as if Jinan were put in a small cradle. They whispered, "Don't worry, it will be warm here. Really, people in Jinan laugh in winter. As soon as they saw those hills, they felt that they had landed and leaned over.

When they saw the mountains from the sky, they unconsciously thought, "Tomorrow may be spring, right? With such warmth, maybe the grass will turn green tonight? " Even this fantasy can't be realized for a while, and they don't worry, because there is such a charity winter, what else do they want!

Best of all, it snowed a little. You see, the dwarf pine on the mountain is getting darker and darker, and there are white flowers on the top of the tree, like Japanese nurses. The top of the mountain is all white, giving the blue sky a silver edge. On the hillside, there is thick snow in some places and grass color in some places.

In this way, one is white, the other is dark yellow, and the mountain is covered with a floral dress with water patterns; Looking at it, this floral dress seems to be blown by the wind, which makes you want to see more beautiful goatskin. When it was almost sunset, the yellow sun shone obliquely on the hillside, and the Bo Xue suddenly seemed to blush and show a little pink. It's just a light snow. Jinan can't stand heavy snow. Those hills are so fragile!

Ancient Jinan, the city is so narrow and spacious. There are some small villages lying on the hillside, and there is some snow on the roofs of the small villages. Yes, this is a small ink painting, probably painted by a famous painter in the Tang Dynasty.

What about water? It did not freeze, but steamed on the green duckweed. Seaweed is really green, and all the green stored all the year round is taken out. The clearer the sky, the greener the algae. With these green spirits, the water can't bear to freeze, and those skilled weeping willows have to take a picture in the water!

Look, slowly rising from the clear river, the sky, mid-air and sky are so clear and blue from top to bottom, and the whole is an ethereal blue crystal. In this crystal, there are red roofs and yellow grass hills, like small gray shadows of flowers on the carpet; This is Jinan in winter.

2, "Snow", by Lu Xun

The rain that warms the country has never turned into a cold, hard and brilliant snowflake. Well-informed people think he is monotonous. Does he feel unhappy? The snow in Jiangnan is very beautiful. That's the news of youth that is still looming, and it's the skin of a very strong virgin.

In the snowfield, there are blood-red camellias, single plum blossoms hidden in white and green, and deep yellow wintersweet: there are cool green weeds under the snow. Butterflies really didn't: I don't remember whether bees came to collect honey from camellia and plum blossoms. But my eyes seem to see flowers blooming in the snow in winter, and many bees are busy flying. I can hear their buzzing sound.

Children's hands, red with cold, are like purple bud ginger, and seven or eight of them get together to make snow arhats. Because it was unsuccessful, whose father also came to help. Lohan is much taller than children, although it is only a pile of small ones, and finally it is impossible to tell whether it is a gourd or a Lohan.

But it's white and bright, and it's glued together with its own water, and the whole ground shines. The children made his eyes with longan seeds and stole rouge from his mother's powder and put it on his lips. This time it's really a big arhat. He just sat in the snow with burning eyes and red lips.

The next day, several children came to see him and asked him. By the way, he clapped his hands, nodded and smiled. But he finally sat alone. Sunny days come to soothe his skin again, and cold nights freeze him and turn him into an inconspicuous crystal shape; The continuous sunny days made him want to know what it was, and the rouge on his mouth gradually faded.

However, after the northern snowflake flies, it will always be the same as powder and sand. They will never stick together and scatter on the house, the ground and the hay. That's it. The snow on the house has already been digested because the fire in the house is warm.

In addition, on a sunny day, a whirlwind suddenly came. It flew vigorously, shining brightly in the sun, like a fog with flames, spinning and rising, permeating space; Let the space rotate, rise and twinkle.

In the boundless wilderness, under the cold sky, it is the spirit of rain that shines and rises.

3, "Winter", author: contradiction

Poets probably have different feelings about the four seasons. Generally speaking, it means "spring outing", "summer vacation" and "sad autumn". I can't think of a suitable word to describe winter. In a word, the poet seems to have a bad impression of "winter", but in fact he is already "sad" in "autumn", let alone "winter" after "autumn"!

Therefore, in winter nights, poets just gather around the stove to talk about the past, which is a bit close to "dormant". Fortunately, there is snow in winter, which adds poetry to poets.

Even in the snow of Xun Mei, the poet at this time is like an activist. However, when the plum blossom opens, in fact, "winter" has passed and it is already "spring".

I am not a poet, and I have no hatred for the four seasons. However, after decades of changes, I gradually recognized the taste of the four seasons. I feel that the taste of winter seems to be particularly chewy.

Because winter has given me three different impressions in three different periods.

When I was eleven or twelve years old, I felt that winter was good and bad. Adults insist that I wear a lot of clothes, which makes me slow and stupid. This is my dissatisfaction in winter. However, the thatch in the wild has withered, just in time for the "wildfire", thanks to the "winter" again.

Children who grow up in cities are poor. They only see the gray roads, but never the neat endless grass. Even when they go to the park, they see a vast lawn, but it is as thin as dog hair, and it is even more ugly when it is yellow. Needless to say, they never thought that they could burn without fire. In the country, it's different.

As usual, in winter, the field is full of gray-yellow hay, which is tall and dense. When you walk down, it sounds rustling, and sometimes it doesn't reach your legs. Such a big grass, you can set a fire. We all took off our long gowns and struck a match. The hay on the ground was peeled and burned.

When the wind blows to the ground, the grass cries wildly, and a red flame with white smoke will lick the hay in a big area like Lickitung. Sometimes we stand at the tuyere, so we run with the rotor; Sometimes we deliberately stand in the downwind and watch the flames flood in, so we laugh and shout and jump among the flames.

In a blink of an eye, the wave of flame has advanced, so we catch up and send it. There are often floating coffins or bones on these grasslands. When the fire approached the coffin, our most tense moment came. We will "outflank", jump into the line of fire and roll for a while to put out the fire we set. At this time, we feel the joy of defeating the enemy.

Twenty years later, I became an "urbanite", and the interest in "setting off a mountain fire" can no longer be there. However, the number of people wearing clothes is no longer interfered. At this time, I should have no hate or love for winter, but winter has begun to give me a good impression.

In his twenties, he only needs to sleep for four hours. As usual, I have to wake up at five o'clock At this time, the bed is warm, people are cool, everyone is in the dark and sweet countryside, and there is no sound to disturb me. At this time, I hid there and let my thoughts run like wild horses, and I could go wherever I wanted.

When I think enough, I get up at dawn. It seems that I have done something quietly and freely behind my back, and I feel a sense of pleasure. At that time, I compared "winter" with spring, summer and autumn, and felt that "winter" did not disturb people. It doesn't make people sleepy like spring, and it doesn't make people sing Meng Jiangnv in the alley when I sleep like summer.

I haven't got up yet, and the alley is full of the sound of flushing toilets, which is different from the silence in autumn. Autumn is the world of flies and mosquitoes, and it is also the season when malaria patronizes me!

Recently, however, I began to have a bad feeling about "winter". Holding the hot bed and letting my thoughts gallop, I am no longer willing to do it, and there is no grassland for me to "put a wildfire". In addition, the winter in recent years seems to be getting colder every year, so I have to take the initiative to put on more clothes and close the doors and windows.

4. Winter, written by Zhu Ziqing.

Speaking of winter, I suddenly think of tofu. It's a "small ocean pot" (aluminum pot) for cooking tofu. It's hot. The water is rolling, like the eyes of many fish, and there is still a small piece of tofu in it, which is tender and smooth, like a white fox coat that is worn backwards. The pot is on the "foreign stove" (kerosene does not blow the stove), and the stove is blackened, which shows the whiteness of tofu.

It's night and the house is very old. Although "foreign lights" were lit, it was still dark. Sitting around the table are my father and our three brothers. The "foreign stove" is too high. My father often stands up, leans back slightly, stares at his eyes, reaches into chopsticks from the dense heat, picks up tofu and puts it in our pickles one by one.

Sometimes we do it ourselves, but the stove is too high, and we always enjoy it. This is not eating, just playing. Father said it was cold at night, so everyone would be warmer after eating. We all like this kind of white water tofu; As soon as I served, I looked at the pot eagerly, waiting for the hot air, waiting for the tofu that fell from my father's chopsticks in the hot air.

It is winter again. I remember it was on the night of November 16th of the lunar calendar. Mr. S, Mr. P and I are sitting by the West Lake. Mr. S has just arrived in Hangzhou to teach, and wrote in advance that "we are going to visit the West Lake, whether it is winter." The moonlight that night was really good, and now it still shines on me. It turned out that the night before was the "first of the month"; Maybe the moon in November is really special.

It's past nine o'clock, and it seems that we are the only rowers on the lake. The wind is a little strong, and the moonlight sheds soft water waves; At that moment, the line reflected light, like a new silver coin. The mountain on the lake is just a vague shadow. Occasionally there are one or two lights under the mountain. S Jun Kouzhan has two poems: "A few stars shine on the fishing village, and the ink is light and the distance is light." We don't talk much, only the sound of oars is even. I gradually fell asleep.

P jun "hello" only raised his eyelids and saw him laughing. The boatman asked him if he wanted to go to Jingsi Temple. Today is Amitabha's birthday, and it's quite lively there. When I arrived at the temple, the temple was brightly lit and full of the voice of Buddha chanting, as if waking up a dream. This was more than ten years ago, and Mr. S often wrote to him. Mr. p heard that it was changed several times. The year before last, he received a special tax from a special tax bureau, and never heard from him again.

After a winter in Taizhou, there are four people in my family. Taizhou is a mountain city, which can be said to be in a mountain valley. There is only one street two miles long. On other roads, almost no one can be seen during the day; It is dark at night. Occasionally, someone's window reveals a little light, and pedestrians hold torches; But that's very few. We live at the foot of the mountain. Some are the wind in the pine forest on the mountain and the shadows of birds in the sky.

I went in late summer and left in early spring, but it seems that I have been living in winter; But even in winter, it is not cold. We live upstairs, and the study faces the road; You can clearly hear someone talking on the road. But because there are too few people walking, sometimes there is a sound, which can only be heard when the far wind comes, but it is unexpectedly outside the window. As strangers, we often just sit at home besides going to school.

My wife is used to that kind of loneliness, too, and only stays with our father. Although it is always winter outside, it is always spring at home. Once I went to the street, when I came back, the wide window of the kitchen downstairs was open, and their mother and son were lined up side by side; Three faces smiled at me with innocent smiles. It seems that Taizhou is empty, only the four of us; The sky is empty, and there are only four of us.

It was the tenth year of the Republic of China, and my wife had just come out from home and was at home. Now she has been dead for almost four years, but I still remember the shadow of her smile.

No matter how cold, windy and snowy it is, it always warms my heart when I think about it.

5. Snow by Liang Qiushi.

Li Bai's words: "Yan Xueshan is as big as a seat." This is not reliable, and the poet exaggerates it, just like "three thousands of feet white hairs" and so on. According to scientific reports, the formation of snowflakes depends on the local temperature at that time, and the maximum diameter is three to four hours.

As big as a seat, can't a snowflake cover the whole person? Snow, the bigger the snow, the better, as long as it's not a disaster. Rain and snow are falling like salt in the air, flying like catkins and falling slowly. It's really interesting. No one doesn't like it. Some people like rain, some people suffer from it, and I have never heard of anyone who hates snow. Even in places of ice and snow, Eskimos will build dome-shaped huts with snow blocks, which is very warm to live in.

To enjoy the snow, you must not be hungry first. Otherwise, the snow will blow and the wind will blow, and you will be hungry and cold, so you can't breathe. Why do you have time to count "one by one" ... flying into the plum blossom fragrance? "There was a Yuan An in the later Han Dynasty who was blocked by heavy snow and had no way to travel. People call him to death, and Luoyang makes him snow-free. I found him lying stiffly in the room and asked him why he didn't come out. He said,' People who are snowing heavily are hungry and should not fuck people. "

This man is cute. He is hungry. He expects others to be hungry, too. I believe that Yuan An can't sing such a sentence as "the wind blows the snow like a flower" when he is lying stiff. King Jin still lives in the deep mountains. Snow begins at night and the moonlight is clear. Suddenly, he remembered his friend Diane Dao who was far away from home. Even if he takes a boat at night, he will pass by his master and build a door without looking back.

If it weren't for the heavy snow, he wouldn't be so excited. If he didn't continue to eat porridge himself, he wouldn't go for an empty walk by boat at night. As for Xie Anshi's elegance, it is even more a wealthy family, who sings poetry with children on a cold snowy night.

A snowflake contains countless crystals. A crystal has many sides, and each side reflects light, so the snow is very white. When I was a child, I heard that there was a story about boiling snow and discussing tea. I was curious for a moment, so I went to the yard to scoop up the surface of the newly fallen snow and put it in a bottle to melt it into water. After seven steps, I brewed Dahongpao in a small Yixing pot, poured it into a small cup and sipped it carefully.

Hold up the drained cup and smell it for three or two times-you can't feel the wind under your arm at all, but your tongue is idle. I'll check the remaining snow water again, as if I want to hit it with alum! Air pollution and snow can't keep it clean. One year, I was on duty on Bianluo Road, when my car broke down and it snowed heavily. I was hungry, so I bought food in the grass shed by the road.

My host invited me to dry noodles, and I was overjoyed. But there was no water for cooking noodles, so the owner took the washbasin, scooped up the snow on the roadside and put it under the messy snow water. Although it's delicious when you're hungry, such clear soup noodles are not very delicious. Since then, I think snow can only be seen from a distance, not played. Su Wu's desire for blankets and snow are two different things.

The loveliness of snow is that it covers the earth, everything, and there is no difference. Sleeping under a quilt at night in winter, I feel chilly, curled up and afraid to move. When I open my eyes in the morning, there is bright light shining in the gap between the window lattice curtains. I got up and looked out of the window. Ah! A vast expanse of whiteness is a silver world. Bamboo branches and pine leaves are covered with piles of snow, and branches and old trees are inlaid with silver edges.

Zhumen and Penghu are also affected by it, and there is no difference between carved jade fences and urns and mulberry trees. The potholes on the ground, the dead branches and stalks on the ice, and the leftovers on the road were all covered by a crane left by God. Snow is so selfless, decorated with beautiful things, but also covered up all the filth, although it can not be covered up for too long.

The biggest advantage of snow is in agriculture. We depend on the sky for food. Since ancient times, we have looked at the face of heaven. "The sky is the same as the clouds, and the rain and snow are the same." ..... that's enough, it gave birth to me in every way. As the saying goes, "Xue Rui is in good weather", that is to say, there will be a lot of snow this winter and next spring. There is no need for "heavy snow, as for the bull's-eye", the full scale is enough.

Others say that snow should be suitable for wheat, because locusts leave their seeds on the ground. When the snow is one foot deep, they drill down to ten feet underground, and even the pests are cured.

I had a similar experience myself. There are two pillars of peony in front of the hall and a bed of Hosta under the eaves of the study. Several heavy snows swept in winter and piled up on the flower beds, which not only kept the flower roots warm, but also melted into natural irrigation when they came to Chun Xue. When the earth returned to the Soviet Union, the new seedlings were furious, grew strong and blossomed. I think this is more meaningful than making a snowman.

It is said that a thin man once sang a poem about snow: "The yellow dog is white and the white dog is swollen. If you go out to drink, the world will be unified. " As the saying goes, "the official sings poetry well", not to mention that the hero will be complacent when he is in love? This poem is not without originality, but is ridiculously thick, which is probably related to birth temperament.

According to legend, the French emperor Louis XIV wrote a poem with three rhymes, which made him complacent. He asked Bovalou, a poet critic, for advice. Bovalou said, "Your Majesty can do anything. Your majesty tried to write a crooked poem, and he succeeded. " Our hero's Ode to Snow should also be regarded as an excellent crooked poem.