I love it when I wake up on cold, blustery, winter mornings andthe house is empty of sound. I put on my coat and walk out the front door intothe chilly morning, stopping as my first breath goes deep into my chest. Myexhalation is foggy, but speedily disappears. I step off the porch and down ontothe snowy ground. All is dark and silent. The trees are cut from black velvet andneatly placed against the dark sky. My steps echo through a hallway of trees as Iwalk toward the clearing. At the edge of this corridor, I stop and wait, foldingmy arms so my warmth doesn't escape into the shadowy tree-lined meadow. I feelanticipation burning inside me, building until I don't think I can stand the waitone minute longer. Then, just as I am figuring the timing, I see the blue-graysky give way to purple hues that, momentarily, dominate the sky. The purples giveway to reds and the reds to oranges. And suddenly the sun bursts past thetree-lined horizon, its light a bright and vivid spectacle. I gawk in wonder asit rises past the snow-topped trees.
When I know it has risen, I turn myback on the awesome sight and hear the snow crunching under my feet as I slowlywalk away ...
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