I dawdled on my return trip home from an early business meeting near the pont St. Michel, because I just couldn't help it. I simply had to be outside. Heavenly.
A soft breeze was blowing, and the air everywhere was scented with flowers. Lightly fragrant, almost imperciptible, but it was there. Even on the broad boulevards buzzing with traffic, the perfume of springtime blossoms swirled around.
Aha!-- I found one source, at least. The flowering trees in the Square Gabriel Pierné. If only I had brought a book to read on these charming book-benches, strewn with petals like confetti.
Or if I only had the time to relax on them and gaze up at the gold-leafed cupola of the Institut de France.