the sand river, sand waterfall and sand mound sight. The wind activates the white wave, whirls the sands and sculptures the craggy gesture; the tree sheared by wind is its complacent works.

Then everything on the earth relaxes the living step with the rhythm of nature; the grassland turns yellow, but the flourishing mountain forest, the reef pamphis and alga at the coast still insist on the green. The kalanchoe garambiensis kudo dyes the arid reef with yellow in the howling wind. The reptiles and other insects seem to be less, but a great deal of tirumala limniaces and purple crow butterflies are still fluttering to pursue the sun. The stubborn howling wind does not make Kenting silent, the wild gooses, ducks and water birds in Lung-luan pond are still bathing in the warm sunlight of winter.

The mountain Tachien in the gloomy frozen cloud is still standing erectly and grandly when looking back suddenly, and we will inherit its fortitude and transcendence and continue weaving the hope of spring.