Paula Tilson wears goggles to confront the elements as she watches the snow being removed near the Arlington Courthouse at the height of the storm. (John McDonnell/The Washington Post)

Temple Morris loves a good blizzard. She loves it right out there on the other side of her double-paned glass.

“I can see it right out the window, and that’s where it should it stay,” said Morris, 48, reached by phone Sunday where she was guaranteed to be: In the Takoma Park, Md., house where she had been happily nesting since the first flakes of Friday.

Her husband, Ray Hulser, 53, also adores a blast of winter, but he prefers to take his square in the face. Hulser spent six hours of Saturday, officially the 15th-snowiest day in D.C. history, out in his element — sledding, shoveling, hiking back and forth among friends and neighbors. “I really like to get out as much as possible.”

The two stand on opposite sides of a great white divide between those who rush to grapple with winter on its own turf and those who gladly retreat to the climate-controlled comfort of wood fires, soup pots and Scrabble. Watching the gathering blizzard Friday, some began to hunker and others, eying the blowing snow, began to hanker. The Innies and the Outties; weather wimps and weather warriors.

“Cabin fever comes really quick to us,” said Heath Simon, father of a confirmed family of Go-Outers in McLean, Va. The federal law enforcement officer is often out the driveway as soon as the plow has passed, making grocery runs for the neighbors, clearing other people’s walks, flinging snowballs.

He began his winter weekend with a long “treacherous” drive to the veterinarian’s office Friday night and was shoveling by 5 a.m. Saturday. “I was antsy,” he said.

“He was telling the girls every hour on the hour, ‘We need to shovel,’ ” said his wife, Jeanine Simon. “They were like, ‘Come on, Dad.’ ”

Mostly, they all agree.

“We’re just really used to getting out and about,” said Simon, who grew up this area, but spent 10 years in Massachusetts being tutored in a flintier way of winter. “Around here we have ‘Snowzilla’ and ‘Snowmageddon’ and make it sound like the world is going to end. New Englanders treat it like something to enjoy.”

But those who like it cozy and those who like it frozy can live serenely under one roof (or rather, one under the roof and the other out in the yard). Hulser, who grew up in upstate New York, delights in getting the kids out and still loves a good sled run himself. For him, whiteout equals go out.

His wife, meanwhile, had made two vats of soup, a heaping stroganoff and organized two closets. She is equally delighted to stay where the teakettles are steaming and the period dramas are streaming.

“I watched three episodes of ‘Downton Abbey.’ My husband thinks it was only one,” Morris confessed.

D.C. residents met in Dupont Circle for a massive snowball fight, following a weekend of heavy snow. (Dalton Bennett / The Washington Post)

Sometimes the divide is generational. Heather Hurlburt was cross-country skiing along Sligo Creek Parkway on Saturday, a ghostly gliding figure in the swirling gray air. Her husband, who also has a taste for blizzard al fresco, had skied earlier in the day. They were taking turns so one could be home with their 11-year-old-son, the one who just said no to snow.

“He is ecstatically watching every minute of the Australian Open,” said Hurlburt, a project director at the New America Foundation. Young Lev did go sledding, she said, but all in all he would rather do something less “messy and cold” than suiting up for an hour among the flakes.

Hurlburt said she learned to embrace the cold as a girl in Vermont, where learning to love winter was easier than avoiding it. It’s different in her son’s Mid-Atlantic, especially after a December that was more balmy than bracing.

“This feels like a freak of nature to him, whereas to me it feels like what winter is supposed to be,” she said.

It’s easier to find the snow warriors because they are out in the world, snowshoeing across the Mall, drift diving from their porches, stumping over walls of plow wash to get a Starbucks. The true snow warrior is the one who drives 10 miles to buy new potholders or return a library book that’s not overdue.

During 2010’s Snowmageddon, Simon took his family to see the movie “Avatar,” even after having to dig their Expedition out once along the way.

Shane Lawson said he looks for any excuse to escape the house during a winter storm. Fortunately, he has a job that lends itself to outings in all weather as a roadside assistance mechanic for AAA. Coincidentally, after spending much of the weekend with his mother in Bethesda, Lawson was wrangling his own car out of a snowbank Sunday. (Pro tip: He let some of the air out of his tires to improve traction.)

“I tried to stay out of the house as much as I can because I get bored very quickly and stir crazy,” said Lawson, 38.

But the weather wimps, while not as visible, are out there too. Or rather, in there. Content in footed PJs and peering at the white world through a chamomile cloud, they can be as giddy about the weather as the hardiest sidewalk snowboarder. A day or two free with a Netflix account and a #cozy recipe for chicken and dumplings?

Snow me in, please.

“I was really excited about the blizzard because I knew that I would get to nest,” said Morris, who went grocery and winter-coat shopping in the mad run-up to the storm. This is how I enjoy a snow storm.”

Simon, the fearless winter wanderer in McLean, said he didn’t get far from his street on Saturday, mostly because he didn’t want to interfere with the plows. “I’m not crazy,” he said. “You’ve got to let those guys do their job.”

But for Sunday, he had at least one task in mind. He was going to find a parking lot where he could give his 16-year-old daughter a driving lesson.

“She needs a little experience in the snow,” he said.

Victoria St. Martin contributed to this report.

Correction: In an earlier version of this article, Heather Hurlburt’s last name was misspelled.