What do you think of when viburnum blows down?

Is it the blooming pear blossoms in the trees, or the crushed white clouds in the sky? Is it the barking of dogs inside the wood door, or a glass of new wine by the small red clay stove? Is it the green bamboo that turns into a twig, or is it rolled up and covered in sugar?
 

Cheng Jiu: How many cold leaves have fallen on your heart?
 

Fu Lu: Snow is everywhere, how cold is it?
 

Bao Lan: Lucky leaves are coming, will there be a good harvest?
 

Jia Xin: The snow is as white as jade, floating in the air.
 

Zhao Mei: "In the past, the snow was like flowers, but now the flowers are like snow."