Time flies, and one minute passes, another, and the sun sets. Dusk is falling, and the streets are turning a soft, almost snow-like into grass on an inch of paper. The snow is white, but not so bright as when you first see it. It's cold, yet the world seems alive, alive with the faint glimmer of someone's shadow. The sun has just risen; a new day starts before us, a day without the warmth we might have had in the summer when the grass was alive.
Before I jump into writing about my experiences as a snowman builder, I need to take some time to reflect. Snow is the life of the party—it’s cold and beautiful at the same time. It gives everything an extra layer of warmth and light. Whether you're rolling, throwing, or even just building with snow, every second counts.
The weather that day was perfect—not too chilly, not too warm. The temperature didn't seem to affect me in any way. I had my gear on, ready for whatever the cold might throw at me. The snowmen were simple—small white bodies, stacked high and low, connected by sturdy legs of wood or plastic. Every inch counted.
The sky was gray, but I knew it was going to be beautiful. The first light I saw wasn't snow—unless you’re talking about a ghost of winter. It wasn’t until later that the warmth and magic of the season began to take shape. Snow is unique in many ways—it’s cold inside, warm outside, white on snow, and able to create beautiful art when it comes together.
I remember walking down to the store that was supposed to be the snow factory. The employees were busy—making snowballs for kids, throwing them onto roads, and storing large piles in warehouses all around town. The sound of his voice as he handed me my new snowman was like a song I’d never heard before. It was soothing, and I couldn’t wait to see it come out of the box.
As the days went by, I realized how much snow there was to make. It wasn't just a day on the sidewalk—there were mountains to climb, valleys to descend, and places to stretch. Snow is also a great building material—it’s strong, it's flexible, and it can be shaped into anything you imagine.
In the morning, I got up early and ready for the day ahead. My first task was to roll a small snowman that was two feet tall. It didn't take long—just me rolling it down a hill, making sure it landed perfectly on its base. The next day, the snowmen were taller—three feet tall. Each one needed more work than the last, but I could do it without much trouble.
Throughout the morning, the sun's rays filtered through the snow, creating a soft, warm glow around me. It was soothing and gave me peace to think about for hours at a time. Snow is so peaceful when it’s out there making its own art—just like people are making their own art out of this world.
As the day went on, I realized how much fun all these snowmen were to play with. The kids would build upon each other, creating giant snowmen in every corner of the city. They would race down the streets, throwing snowballs at each other, and even play tricks on one another with their snowman hats. It was a blast!
At night, I spent hours watching the snowflakes fall from the sky. They were quiet but beautiful, like tiny artists dancing off of the sky. As they landed on leaves and branches, their little dance became more intricate—sometimes cascading down the branches, sometimes just gliding across leaves in front of me.
In the mornings, I made sure to pack my gear. For every foot tall I had to measure for my snowman and for every inch that the snowmen would be stacked—no detail was left out. It all worked together perfectly when I did it right on the first try.
The snow didn't always come out of the sky in perfect conditions, but that wasn't a problem for me. Even if the snow came down slanted or even wet, it still was white and fluffy like the snowmen themselves. It gave every snowman I built the ability to be made as tall as needed.
The evening ended with a big snowfall, but I knew that wasn't going to change anything. The snow was still white and fluffy, just like the snowmen. There wasn't much of a difference between what it looked like during the day and at night.
It was a magical day—perfect for me. It gave me the opportunity to build something, to play with people, and to create something that was more than just snowballs being thrown together into piles. The snowmen were already built out of this magic.
In the end, I knew what it meant to be a snowman—more than just an animal or a shape. It was a celebration of life, a celebration of the beauty of snow, and a celebration of the magic that comes from building with this world.
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