I grew up in north Idaho,in Sandpoint, and we always had a lot of snow; but when you are a kid and enjoy making snow forts and snow men, it is not a bad thing.
It snowed so deep that it covered any cars that weren't being driven every day, and we kids took the sleds up on top of the snowpile that used to be a car, and slid down and then on down the road.
I would help my dad when we had a couple feet of snow on the ground (usually in November sometime), and we would take the snowshovels and shovel snow up all around the base of the house to help insulate the underneath of the house from the cold.
Later, when the snow was deeper, and piling up on the roof, my mom and dad would take a long rope and throw it over the roof of the house, and then "saw" from front to back to loosen the snow from the roof.
Then, my dad had a long piece of 2x4 with a board nailed crossways on the end, and he would put that up to the roof as far as he could reach, and then pull the snow off of the roof with the board.
He had to do that whenever we had a lot of snowfall.
This created deep piles of snow alongside of the house which almost covered our windows; so we could barely see out.
However, we could not really see out anyway, because my mom and dad always tacked up that clear plastic sheeting over all of the windows in late fall.
Even so, I always had frost all over the inside of my bedroom windows every morning, and I could see my breath, even in the house.
Our heat was an old oil stove, and we had to keep it on low, or it would rumble and shake the stove, and sometimes blow the top off.
I was terrified when it did that.
Mom was also terrified when it did that, and she would grab me and run outside into the snow, and warn me that the house might blow up at any second; so we had to get away.
Poor Daddy !
He was left inside to deal with the raging and rumbling oil stove. He had to turn off the little lever that let the oil come in, and then we all waited outside until the stove burned all of the oil out and the fire went out. Then we opened all of the doors and let the smoke and soot out as best as we could; so we could breathe inside the housse again.
By then, of course, the house was freezing, and then my dad had to try and get the stove re-lit again, and running properly.
Since none of us enjoyed having the stove threatening to explode; we kept the stove on low, and the only warm place in the whole house was right in front of that oil stove.
This is actually where we all spent most of the winter, and often even ate our dinner huddled in front of the stove.
The roads were all covered with snow, and sometimes there was barely enough room in the center to drive a car, and even worse when we had to drive past another car.
The hiway had huge rock cliffs in places, and the snow made huge ice-cliffs in the winter. It was a beautiful sight; but not any fun for my parents to have to drive anywhere on those icy roads.