下了第一场雪。雪不大,只在夜里给大地悄悄盖了一层薄薄的毯子。第二天,出了个大太阳,银晃晃的光像把剪子,随心所欲地裁剪起来。剪开的山坡上,卷了边的白毯露出黑漆漆掉光叶的矮灌木,半山腰,一大片被砍伐留下的树桩像一张张脸仰望天空。再往山顶,木头搭的屋子此刻少了绿阴的蔽护,像一个摇摇欲坠的火柴盒,时刻准备趁着白雪铺就的道,一顺溜就能滑下来。她站在门口,看着一览无遗的山坡空地,因为下雪的关系,视线仿佛被抻得更远。山下村舍,烟囱里炊烟一股脑地钻出来,迎风 Under the first snow. Snow is not large, only to the earth at night quietly covered with a thin blanket. The next day, out of a big sun, silver shining light like the scissors, arbitrarily cut up. Cut the hillsides, the rolled white blanket reveals dark dipped shrubs, half-hillside, a large piece of stumps left by felling like a face looking up to the sky. Further to the top of the hill, take the wood at home at the moment less green shade, like a crumbling matchbox, ready to take advantage of snow paving the way, a smooth slide down. She stood in the doorway, looking at the sweeping glance of open space, as if it were snowing, her gaze seemed to be farther away. Downstairs cottages, chimneys of smoke in the brain to drill out, the windward