I love pansies. Honest. They're a wonderful early spring flower. And I always look forward to my friend, Laurel, telling me when the first blooms start to open at the greenhouse. Really. It let's me know that spring is only a few weeks away.
But seriously. December 8th. With an inch of snow on the ground. With ice coating the walkway. Bundled in layers and 2 - count them 2! - pairs of mittens on my frozen fingers, after chipping the ice off of the truck at the train station, I came home to this. Pansies blooming in the planters on the front porch!
Now, I understood yesterday seeing impatiens in Manhattan. It is 2 zones warmer than here at home and the impatiens were in a sheltered sunny spot. Humorous, yes. Explainable, yes. But we are zone 5. It's in the 30's. There's *snow* and *ice* on the ground. The planters are in shade - sitting on stone.
It's not warm.
Okay, maybe there is a bit of warmth coming from the house. Our front door is not weatherproof. (What can I say? It's Victorian. If you were 150 years old, you probably wouldn't be all that weatherproof either.)
But really. Enough is enough. These pansies must die.