I can't stand spring; it's a terrible time, there's no romance in it.
Such a pure, bright, and beautiful winter, with its cold, ice, and snowflakes, fades away, and in its place comes mud, all sorts of unpleasantness, heat, and slush. It's paradise for farmers who have gone out to the fields, anticipating several months of relentless work.
Trying to create romance in spring is awful; I wouldn't want to do it under any circumstances.
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