"Delay is natural to a writer. He is like a surfer—he bides his time. Waits for the perfect wave on which to ride in. He waits for the surge (of emotion? of strength? of courage?) that will carry him along." (E.B. White, The Paris Review Interviews, 1969)
Snow is much like any change in life. When it first "happens," it pretty much stinks (unless you watch it from a distance--then, it is "pretty," or at least "interesting"). After the deluge, snow provides a needed challenge. It's fun, even.