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Spring break began with a snowfall.
In the Arb, the neat flowers of Asian hydrangeas
are still in perfect shape while the roses of Shannon have lost their charm
like dried cotton plants in the field. On a hilltop, where the dead live, it was all silent. When I was descending to the
valley, my heart exhilarated as a rolling terrain unfolding before me. On
the bottom, I saw all the hills around, and a yellow birch cut its skins
open showing its true color. I almost felt baffled for I have always
thought exuberance is with ascending. I lingered there for a while longer
looking into each hill. I wanted to make a snowman with wings.
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