There is one thing, and one thing alone, that will make my husband jump out of bed at six in the morning: shoveling snow. I have met people (me) who prefer having a winter over not, but I have never met someone who gets a thrill over picking out his very own shovel, and then using it. He actually gets disappointed if it's the feathery snow because it just blows away in the wind and doesn't have that satisfying girth, weight, and crunch when stepped on and picked up.
It's not just snow though, he would be perfectly happy being paid to dig holes in dirt or sand. But there is a certain sense of excitement when it is snow. He has stayed out for four hours, digging, and throwing, without a jacket.
What always makes me laugh, internally, is the imagined competition he has with the neighbors. He shovels, then comes indoors and surveys his handiwork against the neighbors and, of course, finds theirs lacking. He also get frustrated at other peoples' technique. Forget about if they are outside before he is, his rage could probably melt the entire neighborhood.
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