May You Bloom and Grow

Ever since I was a child, I have displayed a passionate love for the euphonious popular ballad Edelweiss. As someone who spent all his childhood in the northeast, snow is an eternal symbol of good luck to me. For one thing it brings me puffs of fresh air that can be inhaled only in those snowy days. For another, it heralds the heart-warming and convivial Spring Festival.

Source: LI Xi

And I’m sitting on a bench beside Qizhen Lake, gazing at the tall clock tower of the College of Civil Engineering and Architecture. Though it is winter now, everything seems like autumn has just arrived. The shady green willow twigs wave gently with pleasant breeze, uttering a soft and comforting sound. The leaves of birches are a mixture of lush green and brilliant yellow and some of the leaves softly dropped into the lake surface, floating and swirling like graceful and elegant figure skaters. Pedestrians wander aimlessly on the bridge, wasting no time admiring the beauty of Qiushi Garden and unaware of being part of the aesthetically appealing scenery in others horizons. A cool breeze drifts by, caressing me tenderly in the face. Cats yawn languishingly behind me, making a “purrrrr” sound.

Though it is a sunny evening with everything it needs to be a fine time, homesickness creeps uncontrollably into my mind. Yesterday, my mother gave me a call and told me that the first snow arrived at last, and she pickled potherb mustard for me. She knew I was a potherb mustard aficionado and would always pickle them two months before the Spring Festival. The sky in my hometown must be crystal blue, as it always is after snow. Would she miss me as much as I miss her? I couldn’t answer that question, but I believe it wouldn’t be that wonderful for her as we have never separated ever since my birth. Everything — the frost flower taking shape on the window, the crack sound she made in the kitchen as she cooked, the old pine tree right in front of our home — is now far away from me. Alas, how substantially the south differs from the north. I have neither tried double cooked pork slices nor heard the limpid sound made by the hawker’s cry to announce that it is finally the time for sugar-coated hawthorns since I came to Hangzhou. Though we have many differences, we have much more in common. Snow, for instance, means abundance in China.

When will winter arrive in Qiushi Garden? I couldn’t figure it out. But may the snow flakes bloom and grow to welcome a more prosperous year for our family, our school and our country.