One minute the day lightens, the next it grays, and then ... it's white out (though not whiteout).
This is snow-globe snow, decorative, ornamental, does not mean business. It could be lint from an errant dryer. Or ash from a meddlesome volcano. Or bits of fluff from a cottonwood tree.
But no, it is snow. It melts on the tongue. It coats my hair when I walk through it, which I did yesterday.
Flurries are difficult to photograph. They are ephemeral. It is part of their charm.