In a region weighed down by a few feet of snow and layers upon layers of salt and sturdy winter gear, most of us consider flurries good cause for grumbling these days.

I was doing just that — grumbling — to myself as I trod carefully along the slushy, soggy sidewalk Saturday toward the refuge of Jeep I hoped hadn’t had time to cool off. Stockpiles of snow lined each side of the walkway narrowed by winter’s fallen fury, and the wind whipped hair and chapped skin with breeze.

So, I was surprised to hear the cheerful voice behind me declare, “Wow. We thought we were doing good in Alabama when we got 4 inches of snow last night. This is awesome!”

With no one else nearby, I knew the visitor from the South was speaking to me, and I sincerely hoped my expression didn’t reveal the first thought that raced through my mind — the one that said the woman must be crazy.

Turning, just to make sure I’d heard her right, I noticed the woman was practically glowing to be surrounded by the frozen frustration that has turned 10-minute commutes into journeys worthy of survival packs, called off school for weeks, caved in roofs and left much of the region snowed in for most of 2010.

Her excitement only grew as I advised that the forecast predicted more “real snow” in coming days. She actually clapped her hands and jumped for joy at the prospect. I tried not to gawk.

In all fairness, she soon informed me that she and fellow chaperones had just driven from Alabama with 57 teenagers whose hearts were bent on a Valentine’s weekend ski trip. They were due to spend five days on the Mountain State’s slopes, which I venture to say are among the few places where folks are still grateful for the white stuff that has turned most of us into major whiners.

As we parted ways, I wished her lots of fun on the winter getaway, in an attempt to be a good sport, and silently hoped that wherever the group was headed, the bus really could get away when it was time to head home.

There were days, not very long ago, when fathoming happiness at the prospect of an eight-inch snow storm wouldn’t have seemed so far beyond my grasp. Normally, I love the beauty of a pristine blanket of snow covering hills and trees. It adds a quiet serenity that I’ve never experienced anywhere else, and it’s the perfect excuse to stay home, wrap up, indulge in comfort food and dig into a much-awaited book or movie.

But, after two months of daily fretting over forecasts, freezing roads and four-wheel drive, I long for the days when my coat doesn’t have to be a constant companion, when pretty pumps can replace practical boots and when making plans doesn’t require a quick check of the weather channel. I’m more than ready to bid winter a warm farewell and greet spring’s sunshiny sweetness with glee.

I realize that doesn’t matter much. The snow will continue falling, if it’s meant to, no matter how much I try to will the heavy gray clouds elsewhere or grumble at each falling flake. And, I’ve found the wisdom in a friend’s reminder that there’s no point in hating winter, because that only makes it seem longer.

So, rather than indulging in the weather-induced woe-is-me attitude that’s threatened lately, I’ve tried to remember my new Alabama acquaintance this week. It’s hard to loathe a condition you can’t change when it brings someone else so much pure happiness.

Though I don’t expect to be clapping or jumping when the next storm system sets in, I’ve decided there should be a happy adage to fit our current, snowy situation.

There’s no way this arctic climate could support lemons, so we can’t make possibly make lemonade. We’ll just have to follow the Chuck Mathena Center’s example: When life sends us snow, we’ll build snowmen.

Tammie Toler is Princeton Times editor and general manager. Contact her at ttoler@ptonline.net.