It is said that spring begins on the day of the first spring, but I think that the arrival of spring should be in February of the lunar calendar.
The February sky, blue, high, bright and shining, shining gold, shines on people, like a pair of warm hands caressing you, warm, very comfortable.
Of course, on February days, a thin layer of clouds will also float up, like a mischievous, crying child, wiping tears for a while, but at this time, what falls on the ground is no longer snow, but a fine, silent spring rain. How much all things like the spring rain, the grass that shows the tender buds, the willow branches that have smoked green, the wheat seedlings that have returned to the green, and the farmer who stands on the field.
The February wind is like a mischievous, uncertain child, one will blow south, the next will run north, blowing the dust on the ground to charm the eyes, blowing the window glass of the farmhouse rustling, but in this tug-of-war wind, the willow tree spits buds, and the grass shows its sharp horns. The earth of February is wide, it stretches out, calmly, frankly, let the grass sprout, let the insects move, it is no longer as cold as winter, but full of the warmth and enthusiasm of spring.
In February, the people jumped up, took off their bulky cotton clothes, threw away the laziness of winter, shook their spirits, and went to the street and ran into the fields. The peasant took up the shovel and went to the wheat field to water it; the young offspring went to the city early to work; the old man could not sit still at home, picked up the maza, went to the empty field, and flew his own kite.
The happiest in February is the flower-like girls, who put on gorgeous spring clothes, walk in the spring breeze, and sing in the spring. They want the whole world to know that they are the most beautiful, like flowers. Yes, in early spring in February, it is a shy girl who comes from the winter day, taking a light and delicate step, twisting the waist of a willow, style, soft, walking and stopping, sometimes combing her hair, sometimes pulling the corner of her clothes, sometimes stopping, looking at the green mountains in the distance, looking at the babbling brook.
February, early spring February, February in spring, this season, is both hilarious and annoying. It reminds me of Rou Shi's "February", Xiao Jianqiu's February, sun Daolin's "Early Spring February" - early spring and February, what kind of season, there is a point of joy, there is a little sadness, there is a little longing, and a little bit of confusion. Early spring and February are ours and yours, and as Barkin said, spring is ours and yours, and spring is for the youth.
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