Based on my experience living in Reno for the past two years, I think we would do well to name this particular period -- February 24-28 -- "snow water" (雪水). A nonsense phrase in Chinese. But I suspect it would make sense to Nevadans. It's still cold enough, and Reno is at a sufficiently high altitude, to make snow more likely than rain. But it is a wet rain: fat flakes, spitting more than drifting, melting almost instantly upon meeting the ground. It's been flurrying almost all day, and now with some intensity. But there's been virtually no accumulation. A time of gray skies, pink light at sunset, and the season's first phlox worming up through the ground.
The most appealing aspect of Wei's work is the patience with which he observes the natural world. He was never a productive writer; he believed that the pace of his writing process should mirror the gradual changes of the seasons. My chosen profession may never allow me to adopt such a practice, but surely there are small ways to slacken the tempo of the world. Watching snowflakes must be one.