The Winter air hits the mercury differently than Lady Spring’s breath does. Whereas the spring air, in its florid, sunny attire, sashays through the streets and into my open nostrils, the ice-mantled, brisk breath of Winter hits my face, prompting an unpleasant and automatic recoil.
Winter smells like carbon monoxide, but spring provides lots of material for the searching snout of a dog or pup. Lady Spring is a novice lover, and a flirt, and her sighs are perfumed with rose water. Winter air blows quickly over dirt, pollution and salt, like a squeamish germaphobe trying to avoid touching dirt for too long. Lady Spring’s sun-warmed breath rises above the melting frost with understated joy.