Bradford Pear Trees

There are these trees outside my window currently in bloom. They are beautiful, their branches laden with puffy white blossoms that seem to nod approval at me with each passing breeze. But they smell. Oh how horridly do they smell. Like someone's sweaty shoe, a decaying long forgotten meal from the fridge, a fume so strong it wants to clot up your lungs and suffocate you. I literally had to hold my breath while trying to take these pictures. The things we do for beauty, or even just for the idea of something!
Sometimes when I look at these trees through my closed windows, I wonder, how can they be so foul? Perhaps I can forgive them for such a fatal flaw and love them for their other aspects. There is probably a good reason for their smell; it is unfortunately in their genes! And I know that as spring grows into summer, I will be so grateful for the shade of their deep green foliage that I will have long forgotten the smell of those blooms. But then again, these pretty but icky flowers will return next spring as they always do, and as I should expect them to. Then, I will be bothered again by their smell. Bradford pears are, after all, only cheap substitute for the plum tree or the cherry blossom tree whose blooms are more graceful and lack of foulness. Perhaps it is best to just have looked from closed windows.