Gently I pressed on the handle of the door, and was met by the cold still air outside. The silence became even more dense, as if in anticipation. Even my two dogs greeted me, it seemed, in hushed tones as if they too knew the significance of the day. I slid open the icy cold lock on the gate. The feeble squeak of the metal echoed through the stagnant air and seemed to reverberate off the hard frost-covered ground.
I walked out and looked down the road. It snaked away from me, the dusting of snow reflecting the silver moonlight. The stark trees were silhouetted against the moon. I felt as if I must be the only one in the world awake, the first to breathe the misty air, to see nature before anyone else.