More than once, I've insisted that I'd be perfectly happy to have snow from December 23rd to January 3rd. But when the first snow of the season really hits, I'm as bad as my students for wanting to go outside and play. The way the damp snow this morning lines even the smallest twigs outside my office window charms me. Driving on the slippery roads this morning didn't charm me.
While I consider myself a pretty average driver in general (even though most of us supposedly consider ourselves above average drivers), I'm scarily below average among NorthWoods drivers when it snows. My only defense is to go agonizingly slowly, because I've never really gotten a good feel for sliding around and controlling myself out of a slide. I know and follow the rules, but I don't have the feel of it. I think people who grow up around here have a lot more experience driving on slippery surfaces. (I keep promising myself to someday go out in the middle of an icy night and do car ballet in a big empty parking lot, but I never have.)
My very favorite snow showers happened in the middle of the night; when I had my dog, we used to go play in the new snow. You've probably seen pictures of coyotes hunting mice, doing a sort of pounce thing with their forelegs? My dog would do that with his toy in the snow, submarining it (and himself) into the new whiteness. Our yards never looked pristine and lovely for more than a few minutes, but we had great fun in the quiet middle of the night playing.