One’s Winter of Life


Life, that usually lasts no more than a few decades, is so short. With a year as the unit of its length, the four seasons within it, become the most dazzling star to embellish and depict life. Although they eventually and inevitably pass, their abundance and beautiful images leave us with an unending aftertaste.

Spring is a time when all the creatures awaken after their long winter sleep, and birds, sweet harbingers of spring, exert their voice and give us the gift of their song. A murmuring brook’s ice-bound body melts gradually under spring breeze. The trees put forth buds and leaves. Grass shyly breaks through the soil, its pale green giving off the aroma of the earth. Farmers sow seeds, flowers bloom all around, and this all comes together in the most amazing palette of colors. Spring – a hopeful season; Nature – at its best!

Summer, the transformer of spring, is a more dynamic season. The weather warms, the skies clear of the clouds, the Sun shines fiercely. Summer is a stage for all those flying in the sky, running on the land, swimming in the water, to show their boundless energy and vitality. Look, the garden is a carnival of colors. Stroll through it slowly. Stop by the lotus pool, gently, taking in the scents, breathing in deeply the light yet sweet air around you, quietly, feasting on the flirtatious lotus flowers dancing in the wind, in full bloom. Hear the cicadas singing happily, spy the bees working vigorously… soak up the glory of this season!

Autumn. The most beautiful season, a single falling leaf heralds its coming. Swallows migrate south, farmers busily harvest their crops; bunches of grapes swing in the wind; the overpowering fragrance of rice, ripe grins and fills the air; full-ripened grain and glittering cornfield, fills the air. Farmers are squeezing the juice, picking the cotton, shearing the rice, and the entire field is bustling about with the abundance of the harvest scenery, for, Fall is a season of harvest!

When Zeus orders the succession of day and night, the seasons change and come about at his command – spring, summer, autumn, winter – they are all a song of life, for the hope of tomorrow. However, for most people, winter is frigid and boring, no flowers grow, mountains are covered in merciless snow, masses of ice choke up rivers and streams. No more quarries in the forest, only a stinging wind sweeping through the woods.

That is winter; it does not have spring’s vigor, summer’s intense heat or autumn’s happiness of a big haul. Yet without it, one cannot have a true and wholesome experience of the life of four seasons. Snow, spreading its blinding cover of white lace down on earthgrins,the purest, softest, virgin snow, is a truly unique scene in winter. Hills, grass, roofs, all with a mantle of snow, depicts a moment when the world gloats in its purity. The snow covers the fields with a white cloak, while underneath, energy is stored for the next spring to come.

That is winter – its hard work is all about greeting the next new budding life. Likewise, in our own life, everyone has the time of winter, whether it lasts as short as one year, or as long as ten. It is the period of desperation for most people and yet, personally, I love winter, especially the depth of winter. Because only its depth can present the true beauty of winter with its thick snow, stinging wind and icy sun.

The winter of life – barren and without spring’s delicacy, summer’s ostentatiousness, or autumn’s arrogance; without any ornaments, it quietly seeps into, and appears before us, and we need to defeat, with all our might, all the hardships it brings us. That is winter, the winter I love and enjoy, but also have to face. I know that if I give up when it is winter, I will miss out on the promise of my spring, the beauty of my summer, and the fulfillment of my fall.

The seasons of the year are all unique – like colorful musical notes. Each both charm and challenge life in their own peculiar way. To me, the changing of seasons is both a pleasant, inspiring song, and thrilling, unending drama. It is, in a way, similar to tasting a cup of tea, when at the same time, I actually taste life. Winter or bitter, they are all my tomorrows.

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