Brooklyn Heights Promenade, Sunday. Despite the warm January weather - 51'F/ 11'C - there were few people out. The water on the harbor was choppy, the weather already on its way.
A woman walking with her husband stopped and asked me what these flowers were, after I had straightened from my photographng crouch.
Hellebores, I said.
...Hee...? she queried.
Heh-luh-bores. I said, more slowly.
She looked blank, but I could see her thinking: Heal the boers. He labours. Heel the boars?
Lenten roses, I offered. And added, They're early.
Thank you, she said, and they moved off.
So what were the flowers? asked her husband, leaning in towards her as they walked away.
Hee...um...Heel..., she said. And then they were out of earshot.
They are in full bloom about month ahead of their schedule (last year I saw them in March, early and late; the year before in February, in snow). And they are in for a nasty shock. So are the azaleas in bud on Montague Street, the camellia on Pacific Street, and the premature and tender shoots of daffodils. I don't think even the toughest, cold-loving flowers can withstand temperatures of 11/F and -9'C.