Hangzhou West Lake | A Place of No Return, by the Green Shadows of West Lake

Every time I visit West Lake, I have a different mood: In the early morning, a thin mist envelops the earth like a veil. In the silence, only the early birds occasionally chirp, as if calling for the warm sun. In the pond, a thin layer of ice forms on the water, like a mirror reflecting the withered branches and the hazy sky. The fish under the ice may be dreaming of spring. In the afternoon, the sun struggles to penetrate the clouds, casting a few weak rays. In the fields, the once-vibrant crops have long been harvested, leaving only the empty land, exposed to the cold wind. The wild grass on the ridges has also withered, trembling in the wind, yet still stubbornly holding on. The distant mountains have shed their green coats and donned gray-brown cotton clothes, lying quietly between heaven and earth, contrasting with the blue sky and white clouds. In the forest, most of the trees have lost their leaves, leaving only dry trunks and branches pointing to the sky, as if longing for spring. Only the pines and cypresses remain green and upright, like loyal guards protecting the forest. The ground is covered with thick fallen leaves, crunching underfoot, as if singing a song about the cycle of life. In the evening, the setting sun dyes the sky orange-red. Smoke rises, adding warmth to the cold winter day. The birds returning to their nests chirp on the branches, sharing their day's experiences. As night falls, the stars twinkle, and the moonlight shines on the snow, casting a silver glow. Winter lacks the blooming flowers of spring, the passion of summer, and the harvest joy of autumn, but it has a unique tranquility and depth that inspires awe, allowing people to feel the resilience and strength of life in the cold, and look forward to the arrival of the next spring.