Describe the picture in about 450 words
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This winter, there was an unprecedented snowfall, and the snowflakes looked round, and they melted after holding it in the hand, and it was cold.
This snow reminds me of plum blossoms. There are branches of plum blossoms in the corner, and Ling Han blooms alone. I know that it is not snow, because it has a dark fragrance. The beauty of plum blossoms is a simple beauty, which contains the unyielding idea.In the cold winter, the hundred flowers withered, only the plum blossom stood proudly, alone in the snowy winter, braved the cold wind, braved the heavy snow, and brought its strong will and tenacious vitality to face the difficulties. "Mei Xu Xun Xue SanIt is white, but the snow loses the plum for a while."
It is because the plum blossom has a strong will and tenacious vitality that it has its charming and refined appearance and indifferent to fame and fortune. Noble quality. This is plum. Look at that plum blossom, like pure white snow, but it looksAfter the snow-white snow melts, all that is left is a smudge, blooming, and unreal; while the plum blossom is really pure white, sometimes with a little pink, and what she leaves is a fragrance that seems to be like nothing.It’s her simplicity and elegance, which are beyond the reach of ordinary people. This is plum. I like evergreen pines and cypresses; I like elegant and fragrant orchids; I like bamboos that are neither humble nor overbearing, but the one that stands proudly in the cold winter is my favoritePlum Blossom. "The Snow Blow Wind becomes more awe-inspiring, and the flowers are the strongest."
The more windy, the snowy, and the more awe-inspiring it is to open. It is the most arrogant among the flowers. Even if it fades and falls into mud and becomes dust, it still remains ice and jade clean. This is plum!
Explanation:
Pristine, Stunning, Exquisite, Indescribable
A vast silence reigned over the land. The land itself was a desolation, lifeless, without movement, so lone and cold that the spirit of it was not even that of sadness. There was a hint in it of laughter, but of laughter more terrible than any sadness-a laughter that was mirthless as the smile of the Sphinx, a laughter cold as the frost and partaking of the grimness of infallibility. It was the masterful and incommunicable wisdom of eternity laughing at the futility of life and the effort of life. It was the Wild, the savage, frozen-hearted Northland Wild.If Gods do exist, this place is their hideaway. That might seem a bit ironic, as most of the leaves are beryl-green in colour. The rest are scorched-orange and a pure, molten-gold. One by one, they drop to the ground, leaving the trees bare and skeleton-thin.
In the distance, there is a grove of trees the same size and shape. Sunlight arrows through the branches of the trees. How could this be paradise, you might ask, never mind the playground of the Gods? Ah, but reader, you have not visited this place at the start of spring as I have done. There you might see a bruised-blue and sea-silver sky chasing the grass into shadow at the coming of the dusk. You may also have been lucky enough to see a mackerel sky, grape-green and salmon-silver, with lances of sunlight spearing the ground in places.
If you had gone there at night, you would have noticed the wind music of the trees. Their gentle creaking and whispering leaves can’t overcome the steady thunk-thunk-thunk of ripe nuts falling to the ground. The time-chiselled trees can seem weary at times.
Fog-tinted fairy trees stand alone in fields, noosed by coils of dragon breath. The owls hoot as they ghost past moon-splashed trees and the scurrying of frightened rodents ruffles the leaves. The rodents are after the sweetest windfall apples you have ever tasted. The tutti-fruity smell of ripening fruit ghosts through the air. They are wholesome and toothsome, a tasty morsel left out by the Gods.
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