A 250-word essay about the snow in Xuzhou

The sky is gray and as heavy as lead; the north wind is gentle but sharp. In the evening, little snowflakes floated in the air, like light catkins or fine powder of scattered chalk. One by one, they fell on passers-by. The roofs of houses disappeared in the blink of an eye. After a while, the snowflakes began to become denser, and the snowflakes seemed to get bigger, like pear petals, falling one after another, unhurriedly and steadily; hundreds, thousands, flying all over the sky. After a while, the tall buildings wore white hats, the big trees wore white robes, and a thin layer of frost covered the road. The sky is getting darker and darker, and the snow is falling heavier and heavier. The sky was dark and the earth was white.

In the light of the street lamp, the snowflakes are like cotton buds, thousands, thousands, pure white, crystal bright, shining at night. It is extremely quiet. I pillow my pillow and hear the rustling sound of snow falling outside the window, and the snow is pressing on the branches. The creaking of the head seemed to hear the shouts of the friends having a snowball fight together, and the laughter while making a snowman