Since I was a boy, growing up in the mountains of West Virginia, I have always loved the snow.  There is something almost magical, intensely beautiful, about snow.  This morning I am sitting in our dining room looking out on a fresh blanket of white.  Large snowflakes are still falling. For folks in certain parts of the country perhaps it has grown a little wearisome by this time of winter.  Weather stations are issuing constant alerts for winter storms.  The alerts seem to either bring groans or that giddy, child-like feeling.  It is true that “snow days” mean more to school children than to the rest of us, but I must confess that the little boy in me still gets…