It snowed in Shanghai a few days ago. After get off work that afternoon, on the way home from work, I saw scattered snowflakes dancing outside the window. The gray sky, the dry branches of the plane trees on the street, the cold air, and the pedestrians on the road tightened their bodies and walked. Thin snow fell all night and all day, and many places were covered with thin snow. The bustling Shanghai finally felt desolate. It reminds me of the snowy days in my hometown, those memories of snowy days.
My hometown is in the middle and lower reaches of the Yangtze River. Although it is in the south, unless it is a very warm winter, it will still snow several times every winter. Snow usually falls in the afternoon or evening. The sky before it was about to snow was gloomy, covered with gray and bright clouds, and the air was cold and empty, a prelude to a snowy day to come, and then the snow began to fall.
The snow is getting heavier and heavier, and the goose-feather-like snow is falling one after another. Falling on cities, farmland and mountains. Snow fell on the red and green glazed tile roofs in the small county town, covering the dusty and rutted roads. The noisy county town also became quiet. Snow falls on the farmland, on the wasteland, on the dry grass and trees, and the fertile fields are thousands of miles away, a scene of a snow country. Snow fell on the mountains, on the gray-brown trees and yellow weeds. The snow on the top of the mountain reflects the eastern sky very brightly, even after the snow has fallen.
After the snow stopped, the sun came out and the snow slowly melted. The temperature is still very low. In the past, long ice picks would be hung from the eaves of old houses. Children built snowmen one after another, and adults hung New Year bacon and sausages on the walls to bask in the sun.
The room at home faces south, facing a thick camphor tree. On winter mornings, if the windows are too bright, you will know that it snowed at night, and the reflection of the snow on the camphor trees will make you aware. On snowy days, my mother would still get up very early and light the charcoal fire. Then the family got up one by one and warmed themselves by the fire after dinner. The face of the person illuminated by the warm charcoal fire is bright red, making him sleepy, like a napping cat. The family was warming up by the fire, and few people spoke. It was quiet all around. The only sounds that could be heard were the beeping of the charcoal fire and the rustling of snow falling from the branches outside the house.
My hometown is surrounded by mountains and lakes, and I once cycled on a mountain road by the lake. The snow fell suddenly, and the heavy snow soon dyed the hills white and covered the grass by the lake with snow. I was alone, with my back to the mountains, looking at the vast lake. In the pure white world, I felt like the coir raincoat man fishing alone for snow in the cold river in Liu Zongyuan's poem, and like the idiot watching the snow in the pavilion in the middle of Zhang Dai Lake. I felt like the heaven and earth. The loneliness of walking alone.
I have read a lot of poems about snowy days, but every time it snows, the only things I can think of are "When it snows in the evening, I can drink a glass of nothing" and "Read forbidden books with closed doors on snowy nights", both of which are very strange. A quiet and lonely poem. On a snowy night, reading a book alone, or slowly reminiscing about the distant past, my heart becomes quiet, and I think it is a very beautiful thing.