He'd been waiting for weeks, months, for snow of the right consistency. It had to be heavy, with just enough moisture, to really pack together well.
And so the day of the perfect snowfall, he couldn't get outside fast enough. In his haste, he forgot to don a hat -- but it really didn't matter, for his thoughts weren't on the bitter cold. Instead, his mind lost itself to the memories of snowy pasts, when he'd built snowmen of grand size, and even grander importance. Each year, he built them bigger, sturdier. He gave them greater personalities, fancier plummage.
Why did he do it? Lots of really good, really deep reasons, just like you'd expect. And I'll give them to you now.
Because the snowmen he created, every year, reminded him of the simpler days of... because it was relaxing to... aw, heck. It was because he had no friends. And the snowmen filled that void. Yada yada.
He stood back, rubbing his hands together for warmth, admiring his newest creation.
"I shall call him Sam," he said to no one. "And Sam will be my best pal."
This is one of my brothers-in-law, from two winters ago. I poke fun because he's a good sport and I know he'll be tickled.
Thanks for making great fodder for my blog, fella. ;)