The wheel of the four seasons turns

On November 5th, a blizzard swept across the northeastern region while the southeastern coast basked in the heat of the subtropical climate, with the highest temperatures hovering around 30 °C. This stark contrast between the North and South has left Southern children yearning to witness the snowflakes of the North. My familiar climate in the southern part of China, where I call home, still November brings relentless heat. In the afternoon, I habitually adjust my fan to sleep mode every afternoon, which is a way of coexisting with the lingering warmth of late summer. Despite the abundant sunshine in the afternoon, a slight chill creeps into my clothes in the morning and evening, hinting at the arrival of autumn.

Every year we roll through June to September, the sweltering, stifling, and exhausting summer circulation clings to Xiamen like a heavy cloak. In the days leading up to the changing seasons, I organize and sort through my stuffy, chaotic, and cumbersome wardrobe, preparing a refreshing space for the forthcoming season of the sun-filled with rolling heat. In late spring, on a warm and sunny afternoon with a gentle breeze, I pack away a season's worth of winter clothes on one side of the wardrobe, layer upon layer, until even the last closed cabinet door is hibernating amidst the summer heatwaves. As October approaches and the gentle caress of the autumn wind looms around the corner, I feel the door of my seasonal attire sanctuary about to reopen. In that fleeting whisper of time, it seems as if I pull back thousands of curtains and summer steps into the boundary of autumn without hesitation. And just as I was thinking this, nearly mid-November, the weather suddenly cooled down. It's as if the summer sunshine has been gradually cooled and stored in the vegetation, and each passing day brings a colder atmosphere.

In November, at a rare family gathering over the weekend, I asked my young niece a question in the well-lit room of the northern house. I asked her which season she liked the most among the four. She ponders, her small eyes twinkling beneath long eyelashes, and says, "If it could snow here (referring to Xiamen), then I would love winter the most." As her answer fell upon my ears, I glimpsed the tender and transparent heart of the child, and her musings about the snowy landscapes of the North were as vivid as the gleaming sunlight on this winter day. Each season paints a different picture, and for children in the South, the sight of snow is a rare and wondrous thing. They harbour a deep fascination and longing for the snow-covered landscapes described in tales. As a child, I recall reading poems about snow with fervour and curiosity. I often gaze up at the sun and the moon, wondering if they had ever witnessed the breathtaking spectacle of snowflakes."Oh, dear sun and moon of the South, have you ever seen the magic of snow?" Such is the vision of every generation of Southern children - a deep-rooted fascination and longing for the rare and wondrous sight of snow-covered landscapes.

The essence of life lies in savouring the poetic flavours of seasons—from the natural cycles to the seasons of one's existence. It is through this poetry that life becomes intoxicating.The changing seasons mirror the grand and fickle transitions in life. As you adapt, you find tranquillity.Though we may separate by countless miles, I yearn to see the beauty of snowflakes. So, let's venture into the winter and bask in the splendour of snowflakes.After all,nothing is more pleasing to the human heart than the order of spring, summer, autumn, and winter.