Unlike my snowbound friend, who lives in the "frozen tundra of the north" (her words) and can afford to hate snow with a passion, we live in the Drippy Taiga (that's a real word, it means fir trees) of the West. We get inches of snow, and that's only if we've been promised a particularly cold winter. This year was supposed to be a particularly cold winter, and we've gotten six inches total in three inch increments. Three inches of snow is a piddling amount when you want to play in it.

Boogaloo, of course, didn't notice. She also didn't notice the 30 to 45 mph winds that were buffeting us the whole time. She climbed right up onto that snow and got busy. 
I think she likes the power of having a snowball in her hand.
But her favorite thing to do in the snow is make a snowman. She insists on it, emphatically. And Washington snow is ideal snowman snow. It packs like nowhere else.
Tada!
We tried to sled a little, but it's hard walking back up a slope with eight feet of snow prepared to give way beneath you.
I guess that's why ski slopes have chair lifts. 
