When I was a child, I huddled by the warm air register much of the time. Occasionally my mom would force me to "play" outside. I remember going into the barn with the cows to keep warm. (Though I was afraid of their long tongues reaching out for me like I was a bale of hay or a scoop of oats.)
When I became a teenager, I still hated the cold/snow. Except when large, lazy, white puffs fell on my 'nose and eyelashes'. Why do we think that is so romantic? My mom and brother and I went to the city to see Mary Poppins. When we came out of the theater, large flakes were coming down; so beautiful by the streetlamp light! And, yes, they did land appropriately.
For some reason, in later years, I've grown to like and even (sometimes) love snow. I'm still partial to the puffs and enjoy the glittery diamond-like glow in the cold, fierce winter sunshine.
Certainly, I don't want to be out for long periods of time. But Milton and I walk around the house looking for suitable spots for elimination. (Not for me; that would be taking my new-found love of winter a bit too far.) I even shoveled my steps, walk and driveway last year.
So, YAY for snow and for finally accepting (and embracing) what I cannot change!