In the New York Times this week, they called it “weather weirding.”
Patrick had said that the almost snowless winter, while not normal, is less worrisome than it might be–it’s not an El Niño year, typically stormy, but a La Niña, always drier.
Last weekend’s peak bloom for D.C.’s glorious cherry trees was the earliest since the original 3,000 trees were presented by Japan in 1912. First Lady Lady Bird Johnson (I’d never thought about the funny repetition of Lady until now) accepted 3,800 more in 1965. (Strolling like “The Makioka Sisters” has to be put on hold until next year.)
During the 2011 Halloween storm in Stone Ridge, fearful that the heavy, wet snow could coat the leaves and weigh down and break the branches of my gorgeous Kwanzan cherry–its spring blossoms are more extravagant than those of the simpler Yoshino, the most abundant tree in D.C.’s tidal basin–I ran outside every half hour to shake the tree. Eileen, visiting for the weekend, whom I’ve known forever and who’s seen me do many funny/strange things, laughed at me endlessly.
Last December, in the median on the West Side Highway, the rosa rugosa, continued to bloom, seemingly a new, indeterminate varietal (Climate Change Rose?), like Camille’s cherry tomatoes (in L.A., near Pasadena).
This March everything flowered, a month too soon. San Diego on the Hudson. Earliest iced coffee. Great for road trips. And although it’s cooled down, shooting outside earlier this week, Kristin, Julia and I were still way too warm in our down jackets.
On Thursday, we had genuine spring weather for Gabi’s birthday, sunny but cool. Now tonight and tomorrow’s forecast for upstate includes snow. I worry–I’m not there to shake it off my budding Kwanzan (and lilacs), fooled into starting their shows too soon.