Goose-feather-like snowflakes, scattering and falling from the gray sky, like countless white spirits, lightly and persistently kissing this northern city, pulling it back to the deep winter.
On the streets, hurried pedestrians wrapped themselves tightly in thick clothes, their originally light steps becoming slow and cautious. Cars parked by the road were quickly covered by a thick layer of snow, blurring their originally bright colors, leaving only monotonous white. The branches that had just sprouted tender buds bowed their heads under the weight, and crystal snowflakes condensed on the branches in strings, like chains of ice crystal ornaments.
In the school, the originally lively scene was replaced by a stretch of silence. The little blades of grass that had poked their heads out early were covered by thick snow, as if covered by a clean white and icy quilt. Occasionally, a few sparrows unafraid of the cold could be seen, leaving a few strings of small claw prints on the snow, then fluttering their wings and disappearing into the vast white sky.
Opening the window, a burst of fresh air mixed with chill rushed in, carrying the moist scent unique to snow. Reaching out a hand, a cold snowflake landed on the palm. Observing it closely, its shape was so delicate and unique, yet in an instant it melted into a drop of cold water.
This is spring in the north, always bringing some unexpected surprises, or perhaps shocks.
Standing by the window, looking at this silver-clad world, a different kind of tranquility actually arose in my heart. This sudden heavy snow seemed to drape a veil of tranquility over this noisy city. Taking advantage of this rare serenity, I slowed down my pace, quietly contemplating on this snow-covered afternoon: after this snow, when will true spring truly arrive?
