(Written by Hugh Ao way off in Beijing)

          The weather here is becoming much colder as the seasons change.

          Spring is always anticipated because it is the beginning for many living things; summer is an active time as we enjoy being out in the sun; autumn is colorful and stands for ripeness and maturity; and winter is a very special time - not just because of its short days, but because of the snow it brings - one of nature's most beautiful surprises.

          Ever since I can remember, I've loved the snow.  To the eyes of a child, it is always a strange and wonderful thing.  I didn't know what it was.  Mother had explained that rain is the tears of the angels, but she had no explanation for the snow.  When I'd see it falling down, I always got excited.  I'd run happily to catch the flakes with the thought that I could hug them.  I felt that if somehow I could join them - play with them - we'd be able to dissolve together.

          I love the feel of touching the snow.  My cousin and I were always outside when it was snowing.  We'd run through it while playing soccer in the playground and when we'd go back home our parents were always upset as we were so snow-covered that we looked like snowmen.  There were times when we caught colds and even a slight fever, but we were still very happy.

          When I went to primary school, the teacher taught us that in primitive societies people believed that melted snow was holy and pure - the very best thing to drink.  That made me think that snow must have been part of our culture for a long time.  After that, I began to think of snow as having a soul - a pure and holy soul.  I also wanted to taste the snow as it fell although my mother told me that I shouldn't do that.  I didn't really understand why.

          As time passed and I became older and wiser, I learned what snow is and began to comprehend how it's formed.  I no longer ran outside when it began to fall and chose instead to sit at home and enjohy watching it cover everything.  When watching the snowflakes falling down, my heart became quiet and peaceful.  Eachd of them came from the sky and died on the ground - a very short life.  In dissolving they helped clean the entire world.  Our lives are similar to theirs - short, but with the ability to do things for others.  I was pleased with that thought as I continued to watch things becoming white and pure.

          Our lives continue onward, too.  Watching the snowfall isn't as much a part of my life any more.  I expect to walk through it on my way to the things that fill my life, but that pleasure has been denied in recent years, as it snows only two or three times a year now.  It's almost never a heavy snow.  Sometimes it doesn't even cover the ground.  I don't know if I'll ever have the snow-filled days that I remember so well from my childhood.