Ten minutes to write. Less time to read.

It started with the story of Frosty, which I read years ago. The original story of Frosty, that is. I think it was in a Reader’s Digest, but I can’t quite remember for sure. All I know is that long before Frosty made the holiday music hit parade, or Jackie Vernon provided the melancholy voice for the animated television version, or the sequel arrived on the scene, I loved snowmen. With or without their felt top hats.

So I began a small collection of them that I pull out and display every year at Christmas. There’s the little pillow with a mere outline of Frosty on it and the saying, “I’ll be back again someday.” There’s the cuddly snowman with arms and legs holding a sign that says, “Some of my best friends are flakes.” And the quilt whose squares hold different versions of snowmen. And the one that is carved and painted with an actual twig for a nose. And the three that could be a snowy version of carolers.

As I reminisce, I think of Grant Wood’s famous painting “American Gothic” and giggle at the thought that someone might do a rendition with snow people instead of the somber farm couple. Cranberries could be Mrs. Snowman’s necklace and a broom could replace the haying fork in Mr. Snowman’s hand.

Or what about that famous painting, “Paris, A Rainy Day” by Gustave Caillebotte? A clever artist could turn the dapper men and women walking under umbrellas near the Paris train station into equally dapper Frostys. Then the work would be titled “Paris, A Snowy Day.” Umbrellas would be optional.

If Cajun artist George Rodrigue can make a name for himself inserting blue dogs into the paintings of the Masters, then I bet there is someone out there who will do the same for snowmen. If that person is reading this, you can count on me to purchase your work.