I remember snow. I was three.
We still lived in the three tiny rooms above my "Nanny's" clapboard house. The sidewalk from her back porch led to the laundry shed out by the alley and the outdoor "privy" was on the far side of it. That sidewalk, therefore, was always the first Dad shoveled clear whenever it snowed.
That Christmas I had received a heavy wool "snow suit" consisting of brown plaid trousers, coat and matching cap with ear flaps. Mom stuffed me into that suit after first dressing me in corduroy pants, a flannel shirt and a sweater. After putting two pairs of socks on them, my feet went into oversized gum boots and everything was topped off with cotton jersey gloves inside mittens.
In this outfit, she let me go out where Dad had almost cleared 6 or 8 inches of fluffy snow off the walk to the shed and "play in the snow".
I had only managed to waddle about halfway to Dad when I lost my balance and tipped over sideways off the walk. Fortunately, I landed on my back, but soon realized there was no way I could get up----i was so well-bundled that I could not bend either my arms or legs! And so, I layed there watching the wonderful white flakes filter through the leafless elms in Nanny's back yard.
I wasn't cold---how could I be? Eventually, Dad found me and stood me back up. I waddled back inside behind him grinning ear to ear and eager to tell Mom how wonderful is snow.
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All the best to you and yours. 
