This winter, blooming timetable is disrupted

Growing up in Maryland, there were two things that could be counted on as indisputable evidence that spring would soon arrive. The first was the return of robins, a bird that doesn't seem to bother to migrate from our area. The second was the flowering of Japanese or flowering quince, Chaenomeles speciosa. It was usually about March or the beginning of April when these rosy-pink flowers started to unfurl, the first suggestion of color in the landscape.

But it was not March or April when I saw the first flowering quince blooming this year. It was December.

And it wasn't alone. Forsythias are showing off their brash yellow trumpets. Daphnes are fully colored and ready to pop any moment. Flowering apricots have been at it since slightly after Thanksgiving. All the shrubs we count on to give us some relief from the winter doldrums and restore our faith in the inevitability of spring are flowering now.

It's been the oddest winter I can remember. In the most sheltered areas, autumn clung battered, but not down, to the edge of winter until it delivered 20 degrees one night last week. Until then, there were chrysanthemums blooming on Hawthorne Road, and in my yard under the shadowy protection of an evergreen tree, an ornamental pepper soldiered on through December.

Nearby, two varieties of late-summer blooming salvias were illuminated by the lights of a decorated Christmas tree. The vegetable garden yielded post-holiday lettuce for a meal on Jan. 5.

All sorts of things are either blooming too early or giving up too late. From bulbs to trees, Mother Nature seems to be fooling Mother Nature. Here is a brief guide for the disoriented, a sort of field guide for what's in flower and when it should happen:

Two yellow flowering shrubs are prominent in the winter landscape and often thought of as one. The winter-flowering jasmine, Jasminum nudiflorum, is usually the earliest flowering shrub. Its red-tinged buds open to bright yellow flowers on naked green stems. This is a shrub that cascades down banks and hillsides, rooting as it goes and forming thickets. Typically, it begins to bloom in late January and through February. Forsythia is commonly confused with winter jasmine, but it blooms later and is a larger plant. But this year, the two are blooming together and have been since December.

A note about these two. Though they are iconic spring plants, out-of-bloom jasmine is a pile of green sticks and the forsythia is a pile of brown sticks. They do not deserve a prominent spot in the landscape.

Another early-flowering shrub is the winter honeysuckle. It has even less to offer when not in bloom, but when in flower, it has a heavenly, sweet scent. Usually a February phenomenon, it is blooming now. You are more likely to notice its scent than its flowers, which are a dull cream color. But that perfume instantly gets you longing for spring.

Flowering Quince is a multi-branched, often thicket-forming shrub whose flowers, if they don't fire off in winter warm spells, can make a fine display. There are several named varieties, but the common species is an orange-pink color that stays just north of the warmth of apricot. There are double-flower varieties, such as "Cameo" and "Toyo Nishiki," combining red, orange, white and pink. A tough plant, it can look a little sad if a freeze catches it flowering too early. It also bears a fruit that looks a bit like a small apple, but it is hard and insipid unless cooked.

Loropetalum typically blooms later in the spring, but I counted it among the January bloomers in my neighborhood. The red leaf Chinese Loropetalum is a beautiful shrub with dark-colored leaves and rosy, pink confettilike flower petals clustered along the branches. I don't think this will sustain repeated cold, but I haven't been back to confirm it.

Two trees are prominent in the winter landscape for their seeming out-of-season blooms. Prunus subhirtella "Autumnalis," the Higan cherry, is that pale, lacy-pink tree that blooms in late autumn and early spring. Given the chance, it also will bloom in winter warm spells, but I suspect it is spending its spring flowers. I visited a row planted in my neighborhood that was so delicate and beautiful each morning. But after two dips to 20 degrees, they are now clotted with brown petals.

Not so Prunus mume, the flowering apricot. It is the reigning champion of winter-flowering trees. An intensely brilliant pink variety on Stratford Road started up just before Christmas, and the weeping variety in my backyard started around Thanksgiving. It didn't seem to suffer from the cold and is merrily blooming. It's hard to keep a good plant down. Let's just hope we have something left for spring.