Even the spring rain and thunder come to us continuously to announce spring. Spring is a good season for planting seeds, and the farmers are taking advantage of this good season to start planting seeds, so that there will be a good harvest in the fall.
Spring is not as dry and hot as summer, as cold as fall, or as cold as winter.
But spring is a vibrant, energetic spring. It makes me think of our mother, who is like the earth, who gave birth to us and we have life, and when the earth springs back, it means that everything has to start again, and all life begins anew.
Autumn--
The geese fly south to report that autumn is here.
In the fields, there is a harvest scene everywhere: cotton as white as snow, cotton branches are full of peach-like cotton, dozens of them on one tree, the pressure of the cotton branches bent; rice are as thick as chopsticks; heavy ears of grain nodded frequently; full sorghum red like fire ......
Winter
The breath of winter quietly came to earth, he blew the whole world into a powdered jade, he blew down the goose feather-like snow, he blew the people's love of winter, the joy of the atmosphere overflowing in people's hearts.
Winter quietly complete their mission, in the arteries of Mother Nature cohesion, until the time of the earth back to spring, and then nourish the new life, offering the world a more brilliant spring, so that our motherland is more gorgeous and peculiar beauty.
Summer--
Summer's paths are long, summer's lotus is graceful, summer's green is lush, summer's thunderstorms rush.
Summer In July, the translucent blue sky, hanging like a fireball sun, the clouds seem to be burned by the sun, also disappeared without a trace.
In the early days of spring, when everything around them glittered and gradually broke up through the heavy moisture of the melting snow, the breath of the warm earth could already be smelled
and where the snow had melted, in the slanting light of the sun, the larks sang innocently, and the rapids uttered their delightful clamor and roar as they raced from one stream valley to the next.
--Turgenev's "Hunter's Notes"
The spring breeze brought in fresh green, and the sunshine hugged and kissed the boughs again, and the old tree's heart was tender, and it threw off those pesky clouds, and came to frolic with nature too. You see, she sometimes childish episodes, will beckon the wind to the dense leaves, all day misty play fairy music like sound. They desperately make the leaves luxuriant, verdant color, as if layers of green waves. Our house will be completely immersed in the verdant, under the tree look up, that a clear as a rainy lake in the fall, but also almost invisible ah! The sky has been painted green by them! The green sky deep, we are really in the green sky deep!
--Green Ripple "Green Sky"
For example, in March of spring, the slightly warm weather makes you feel a little tired of doing anything; coupled with the busyness of the whole day, in the evening you will not be as tired as a cat tired of the sun? Playing the body is too annoying. Head into bed, afraid to curl up and fall asleep. Like a dead pig. When I was asleep, I kicked and tossed my dreams around, and they all smelled faint. My heart is as lazy as my body. Almost can be said to be mud drunk, confused, lack of intolerable. But a great sleep, c d, your dream is not suddenly a green glimmer, like the east wind blowing through the winter grass like, show eye green to the sky. In a trance, in front of and behind the house, there is a chirping noise, like the girls quarrel, like a group of lively children in the noisy singing; Woody somehow, there "ZhiYue" a sound, you woke up. Immediately you heard the birds chirping all over the valley. The sound of the bells there in the misty distance also buzzed over. You opened your eyes, and a ray of brightness behind the curtains gave you a penetrating wakefulness. A little to the left, the stonemasons were whining and grunting over the sound of ding-dong chiseling; a little to the right, the sound of horses' hooves seemed to be spreading lightly all the way up the hill again. The sound of horses' hooves seemed to spread lightly all the way up the mountain. Everything brought a heart full of laughter. Will you be able to lie in bed then? No, you'd be up in a flash. You would not even have time to put on a coat, but you would jump out of bed and open the window. The window is like a laughing virgin sunshine, a pounce on you a full embrace.
---- Whitman's Leaves of Grass
Summer
On the fifteenth day of June, it was madly hot. As soon as the sun came up, the ground was already on fire. Some gray air that looked like cloud or mist floated low in the air, making people feel suffocated. There is no wind at all. Xiangzi looked at the gray and red sky in the yard, drank a dipper of cold water and went out. The willow trees in the street look like they are sick, their leaves are hanging on the ground. The leaves are covered with a layer of gray soil, and the branches are curled up; the branches do not move. The branches did not even move, hanging down listlessly. There was not a single spot of water on the road, and it was dry and glowing. The road was dry and white. The dust on the road was so high that it joined with the gray air in the sky and formed a poisonous gray sand formation that burned the faces of pedestrians. It burned the faces of pedestrians. Everywhere is dry, everywhere is hot, everywhere is stuffy, the whole old city is like burnt bricks. The whole old town was like burnt-out bricks, and you couldn't breathe. Dogs are lying on the ground with red tongues, mules and horses have their nostrils flared, vendors are afraid to shout, the asphalt is melting, and even the bronze plaques in front of the stores seem to be melting in the sun.
--Lao She, "The Camel's Nest"
The sun shone through the dense leaves of the elm trees, casting round shadows on the ground. The south wind of late summer and early fall blew in the aroma of new wheat and the scent of artemisia. Late summer and early fall are pretty seasons in North Manchuria, and these are the best days of the year. The weather is not cool and not topsy-turvy, the ground is still a little green, and people are not too busy.
--Zhou Lipo, "Stormy Weather"
Autumn
Beijing is at its most beautiful around mid-autumn. The weather is just right, not too cold and not too hot, and the length of day and night is evenly divided. There is no yellow wind blowing in from Mongolia in winter, nor is there any torrential rain with hailstones on ambient days. The sky is so high, so blue, so bright, as if with a smile to tell the people of Beiping: in these days, nature will not give you any threat and damage. The blue color of the western and northern mountains deepened a bit, and every evening also put on various colors of cape.
--Lao She, "The Fourth Heaven"
Autumn is deep.
The sun dimmed.
Nature shriveled.
Under the October clouds. The colors are slowly fading, the mountaintops have been covered with the first snow, and the plains have been covered with fog.
...... damp woods were muted, as if weeping. Deep in the woods a lone bird chirped timidly, it
seemed to feel that winter was coming soon, and far away in the light mist came the bells of the sheep, whimpering as if from the depths of their
hearts ......
- -Roman Roland, John Christopher
The remnants of autumn were coming to an end again, and the slowly undulating slopes of the aged hills were turning a pale yellow color. The foothills of the forest, scattered with countless gray branches like dead bones, the scene is unusually desolate. Fortunately, there are still a few clumps of white camellias and crimson maple leaves to add some color. (Zhang Ziping, "Flying Flotsam")
Winter
The wind is sharper than before; the sun is often covered with a foggy headnet. It glows faintly, and the flow of gray clouds seems dull and heavy. Cold wrapped itself in the atmosphere. The wild grasses and trees trembled horribly, and, unable to drag their wings as if they were unable to do so, shook off their shriveled and mutilated leaves at times, and became more and more naked every day. The mountains in the distance seemed like the remnants of a fire, their heads scorched here, their foreheads rotted there. Everything changed color and took on a haggard and sad appearance. (Ruyan's "Breath")
The moon was bright in the night, and the cold light soaked into my bones, and my cheeks were like ice against the ice. All the scenery under the moon was as if frozen and could not be shifted. The cold moon and frozen clouds in the sky are so cold that they are radiant! The heavy coverlet was like iron, and except for the warmth of my own bones and flesh, everything in heaven and on earth and all around me was cold. How I would like to be in this kind of scene. (Bing Xin "send small readers")
Flowers withered, leaves yellowed, gray clouds covered the sky, the forest sad. Then the snow fell, and the white blanket of winter covered the earth. (Wang Renshu, "Misery")
The rain in spring, delicate and gentle, changes the monotonous appearance of the mountains;
The sun in summer, fiery red and passionate, adds endless strength to the woods;
The wind in autumn, pleasant and refreshing, creates the sweetness of a good harvest in the fields;
The snow in winter, snow-white and icy-cold, covers the earth with a warm coat of cotton.
"The wind of the summer night, in a gust, runs noisily into the woods, and the hundreds of millions of tiny poplar leaves, at once dance and cheer." (Wang Wenshi, "Summer Nights")
The curving lotus pond above, the view is filled with fields of leaves, the leaves out of the water is very high, like the skirt of the pavilion of dancers. Layers of leaves in the middle, sporadically dotted with some white flowers, there are curly open, there are shyly dozen, just as a grain of pearl, but also like the stars in the blue sky.
(Zhu Ziqing, "Moonlight in a Lotus Pond")
They ran to the lotus precipitation of several acres in size, and the large lotus leaves, which were crowded and densely packed as far as the eye could see, stretched out against the sunlight, just like a bronze wall. Pink lotus arrows high up, is to monitor the Baiyangdian sentinel it.
(Sun Li's Chronicle of Baiyangdian).
Spring is like a gentle maiden, full of fantasies;
Summer is like a spirited young woman, full of love and fear;
Autumn is like a grieving young woman, full of sadness;
Winter is like a shriveled up granny, full of bleakness.