Little Brother was mourning the lack of wintry whiteness last night as we drove under a cloudy sky to a party. It's too warm for snow, but the sky did have that look.
He looked out the window and observed the clouds, lit from below by the city lights and a nearby power plant. And he commented, "Clouds are snow! They fall down. Then you play in them."
He's not too far off--even Dad The Meteorologist would have to agree with that one.