I live a whopping 165 feet above sea level in northern California, yet last night it snowed! Not much—just enough to cover the grass and tree barks...and cars. Maybe an inch or two. I didn't have to drive in it, and I enjoyed playing around in it this morning. By midafternoon, it was all melted.
As I child, I grew up in the foothills, closer to 2,000 feet above sea level, and we'd typically get snow once or twice a year, and ever few years, we'd get enough that school had to close. Those were magical days.
Snow still holds that invigorating delight from childhood for me. I've never had to put chains on a car or shovel my driveway. The hardest thing I've had to do is scrape frozen snow from my car's windshield. I imagine that people on the East Coast in or colder climes would scoff at my delight in a few white inches. But to me, it's just pretty. The air tasted clean and crisp. It doesn't get better than that, especially when viewed from the comfort of my warm house.
(Of course, now I have a desire to taste really hot, tropical air and see if it tastes as clean, or if it is only really cold air that has that untainted mineral flavor. I simply must take a vacation to the tropics!)