Maybe I’d feel differently about this if I grew up somewhere where you have to shovel your car out of several feet of snow every morning and just walking to get the mail required upgraded health insurance, but there’s something about playing in the snow that feels unlike any other pleasure in life: a pure, uncomplicated joy. Even soggy socks and frosty red noses don’t detract from the the satisfaction of thunking a third snowball down to complete a snowman, picking out a face with small stones, or the thrill of sledding down a snowy hill, hurtling through space with no regard for anything but the feeling of, briefly, slipping loose from the bonds of gravity.