Lesson 3* "The Four Seasons of Rain"

I love rain, no matter what season it is. The image and memory she gives me is always beautiful.

In spring, the leaves begin to flash yellow and green, and the flower buds gently swing in the wind, seemingly with a kind of winter dusk. But after a spring rain, the color and appearance are unimaginable. Every tree seemed to open its eyes particularly brightly. The arms of the branches were suddenly soft, and the sprouting leaves were simply undulating in a green wave. Water drops from the buds, more delicate than the tears of a young girl. There always seems to be a transparent curtain of water mist hanging in mid-air, holding the colored prism of the sun. At this time, the whole earth is beautiful. The grass seems to turn like a revived earthworm, emitting a rustling sound that can only be heard in spring. Breathing became easy, and the air was like a myriad of sweet smelling fruits, tempting the nose and lips. Really, it is only this rain that completely drives away winter and changes the world's appearance.

And summer, it is something else. Summer rain also has a summer character, warm and rough. A few dark clouds gather in the sky, sometimes without even a hint of thunder, and before you have time to think about it, the beans of rain hit. But then the rain is not terrible, because your pores are so hot that they open their mouths and look forward to the cool nectar. You can keep your body clean with an umbrella and a hat, but it's better to take a rain shower when it's poured on your head, just dripping water from your wet hair, forehead and eyelashes, blocking your eyesight and making your ears a little itchy. At this point, you will enjoy everything more. If the spring rains clothe the earth in beauty, and after a few summer showers of penetrating rain, the earth shows its full allure with its own fullness. Everything opens up unabashedly. The flowers were in full bloom, the leaves were bulging with pulp, countless weeds were competing for growth, and the summer heat was absorbed by a green sponge. And the lotus leaves spread over the river, waiting impatiently for the rain, playing a symphony of summer rain together with the cicadas in the distance and the frog drums in the near distance.

When the fields are dyed with a layer of golden yellow, a variety of fruits shaking bells, the rain, it seems like a married mother who gave birth to a child, looks dignified and quiet. At this time of year, the rain does not go out much. The fields are almost always golden with the sun. Perhaps, people have forgotten about the rain. The ripe crop fields are waiting to be harvested, the golden seeds need to be dried in the sun, and even the red mountain fruits want to be sweetened in the sun at last. Suddenly, one night, there was a rattle on the window glass. It was rain, the autumn rain that makes people quiet, nostalgic and moving! The sky is dark, but the rain is shining; the fields are quiet, but the rain is pouring. At once, you will have a vein of long-range feelings. Perhaps, how much one needs quiet and contemplation when the harvest is already at the gate after a tiring spring and summer! The rain becomes lighter and more affectionate, and the sound of water under the eaves and the splash on the window glass will accompany your night dreams. If you have that sense of joy, the autumn rain will not bore you during the day. You will only feel higher and deeper, and let the cold raindrops purify your soul, and you will definitely look forward to a more beautiful and open earth after an autumn rain.

Perhaps, by the time winter comes, people will hate the rain! But by this time, the rain has already made up, and it often turns into beautiful snowflakes that come to earth in a drift. But in the south, the rain still visits the earth occasionally, but it becomes more stingy. It neither pours nor stretches like silk, or drizzles, it shows a natural, calm. In the gray winter sky, the rain becomes transparent and even a little dry, not nearly as colorful as in spring, summer or autumn. But one has had enough of the irritation of the cold wind and hates the dry and bitter scent. When the rain falls overhead, a special warmth seems to descend again, as if the scent of flowers and leaves ripples out of that wetness again. That coolness was soft and not as aggressive as the north wind. From a distance, the harvested fields became bright, with leafless branches and rain-soaked haystacks against the porcelain-colored sky, like a clean, crisp woodcut. The oilseed rape in the nearby pond bed, washed by this winter rain, even forgot about the harsh winter. Suddenly in the evening, the mercury column descends, the dawn knocks on the window in advance, you open your eyes to see, the roof, branches, streets, have been covered with soft snow quilt, the light on the ground is brighter than the sky. This rain genie, the princess of rain, brings an unusual quietness to the southern cities and fields, and is its last gift to the people of the year.

Ah, the rain, my beloved rain, you often flow in front of my eyes all year round, you bring vitality to my life, you bring nourishment to my feelings, you bring flow to my thoughts. Only in the rain do I truly feel that the world is alive with joy and tears. But how rare our encounters are in the dry northern cities! I can only hope that the growing greenery will invite you back into our lives.

Ah, the always beautiful and loving rain!