Spring may well be a beautiful and splendid time. The eyeballs are certainly impressed with the astonishing acid green of new leaves (the colour of the serpent/Queen in The Silver Chair), the underside-of-your-little-toe-after-wearing-slightly-too-tight-shoes pink of blossoms and the blue of the sky (which is actually the same colour as the sky in winter, autumn and summer as far as I can tell - it does rain in Canberra, but not blooming much).
The air feels soft on the skin and the breezes imitate Bach by just not quite being predictable. The little birdies have returned, and are eating the whole-grain seeds I accidentally spilt in the cupboard, and had to dispense with out doors.
But the snot, oh lord, the snot. And the wheezing, coughing, puffing and panting. And the ears so full of goo that the only conversational gambit is 'eh?'
Bring back winter, I say.