C'mon, do your research. The family tree traces back to Wales. On Mother's side, of course. Fitting to read a fellow Welshman, then.
from A Child's Christmas in Wales by Dylan Thomas:
"But that was not the same snow," I say. "Our snow was not only shaken from white wash buckets down the sky, it came shawling out of the ground and swam and drifted out of the arms and hands and bodies of the trees; snow grew overnight on the roofs of the houses like a pure and grandfather moss, minutely ivied the walls and settled on the postman, opening the gate, like a dumb, numb thunder-storm of white, torn Christmas cards."
"Were there postmen then, too?"
"With sprinkling eyes and wind-cherried noses, on spread, frozen feet they crunched up to the doors and mittened on them manfully. But all that the children could hear was a ringing of bells."
This version is the one I'm hoping for: The text (Dylan Thomas) and the illustrations (Chris Raschka).
Listen to Dylan himself do a reading. Mesmerizing. Part 1,
Lot's of places to read it online, too: http://classiclit.about.com/od/christmasstoriesholiday/a/aa_childswales.htm
There's a movie, too. Haven't seen it yet. Maybe the library has a copy.