When the flowers of the spring of the past; when the summer sun in the past; when the fruits of the fragrance of the fall in the past, the winter came, the winter line of light walking line.
From now on, people no longer feel the sunny sunshine; feel the summer sun scorching; also do not feel the fall of the autumn breeze, we can only feel the winter came!
In the morning, filled with fog. Milky white fog covered the earth, everywhere a vast expanse of white, walking on the road, dozens of steps away to see the silhouette. Looked from the fog can only see the car on the road lights flashing. Walking people full of red, facing the cold wind, step by step to go. Some people cold handle into the trousers pocket; some hand over his mouth blowing gas. Although the weather is cold, but the camphor on the road is still tall and straight. Tall enough to give some green in the winter sky.
Winter came, winter came, it brought the sky of the mist, brought the cold wind, the pace of winter slowly into our side.
I love the spring, because she is full of life; I love the summer, because she is hot, full of passion; I love autumn, because she has the joy of harvest; but I love the winter, because she contains a fascinating charm.
Winter morning, a eyes open, you can see the balcony of the window glass condensed out of a large fog, like chrysanthemum, like Liu, like a lake ... ... beautiful very. See here, I suddenly get up from the bed, dressed, went straight downstairs.
Just a go out, a chill hit the head, I can not help but shiver! The weather is really cold ah, even the sun in the sky are hiding in the clouds refused to come out. The air is free from a few strands and not too thick fog, as if wearing a gentle chiffon. Milky white morning fog is like a real thing, reaching a grasp, but nothing, they are like a group of white elf in amusement to you. After a little while, the fog gradually scattered. The sun also jumped out from the clouds, all around the moment a bit bright.
With the rise of the sun, everything around it seemed so bright! Some of the water on the road had condensed into a thin layer of ice. I leaned over and stretched out my hand, and there was a slippery, cool, hard feeling over my body. I quickly stood up, looking at the roadside trees, bare branches on the already no green embellishment, looks no longer as full of vitality in the past, full of vitality. Waves of cold wind blowing, the branches of the trees slightly swing, as if a chatter. They at the foot of a small amount of leaves, has long been the wind without a trace, the only remaining some of the soil has been absorbed. Touch the trunk, a rough, hard feeling hit, the same in the winter under the invasion becomes cool.
In the twinkling of an eye, the sun has risen completely. This winter morning gradually in the past, that the slightest chill is also more and more light.
I love the winter morning, because she has a kind of unspeakable, fascinating charm - which is unmatched by other seasons.
The first fall of snow is not only an event but it is a magical event. You go to bed in one kind of world and wake up to find yourself in another quite different, and if this is not enchantment, then where is it to be found?
The very stealth, the eerie quietness, of the thing makes it more magical. Ifall the snow fell at once in one shattering crash, awakening us in the middle of the night the event would be robbed of its wonder. But it flutters down, soundless, hour after hour while we are asleep. Outside the closed curtains of the bedroom a vast transfbrmation scene is takiag place, just as if a myriad elves and brownies were at work, and we turn and yawn and stretch and know nothing about it. And then, what an extraordinary change it is! It is as if the house continent. Even the inside, which has not been touched, seems different, every room appearing smaller and cosier, just as if some power were trying to turn it into a woodcutter's hut or a snug logcabin. Outside, where the garden was yesterday, there is now a white and glistening level, and the village beyond is no longer your own familiar cluster of roofs but a village in an old German fairy-tale. You would not be surprised to learn that all the people there, the speetacled postmistress, the cobbler, the retired school master, and the rest, had suffered a change too and had become queer elvish beings, purveyors of invisible caps and magic shoes. You yourselves do not feel quite the same people you were yesterday. How could you not when so much has been changed? There is a curious stir, a little shiver of excite-ment, troubling the house, not unlike the feeling there is abroad when a journey has to be made. The children, of course, are all excitement but even the adults hang about and talk to one another longer than usual before setting down to the day's work. Nobody can resist the windows. It is like being on board a ship.
The sky with large snowflakes, cold weather comes, north wind was whistling.
Wintersweet, bamboo, pines are not afraid of winter, pythons, ants, and other animal hide all hedgehogs hibernate in caves.
Alice and Bob are the playground of smooth sneak with ice; Xiao Fang, Xiao Hua and Mao Mao in playing with the snow, playing in the snow battle and pile up a snowman, everyone in small groups, carefree to play with, extremely happy.
My favourite festival is Children's Day. It's a summer festival. Children sing and dance. People give children presents. Some presents are toys and some are books.
We are happy on Children's Day.