Back in the days of Soviet Russia, a loyal Communist with the unlikely name of Rudolph had retired to a fine dacha
in the mountains with his stout Russian wife of many years.
One winter morning (being a loyal Communist he'd long since stopped calling it Christmas) he got up and looked out the bedroom window at the scenery, and called to his wife, "Ah, look at the rain coming down!"
His wife struggled to her feet and put on a robe, took one look and harrumphed, "Is snow."
He responded, "Nyet, is rain."
She came back, even louder, "Nyet, is snow!"
Exasperated, he spun his wife around by the shoulders ( and said ... )