There is something compelling about a plant flowering in autumn’s frosty grip, but our native witch hazel’s magic only begins there. Witch hazel (Hamamelis virginiana) is far better known as a bottled astringent than a native shrub. Its medicinal uses date back to the Native Americans, who taught Europeans how to identify the plant and decoct its leaves and stems into the now-familiar tonic.
Dave Taft Witch hazel flowers produce a scent reminiscent of lemon zest.Few native products have become so popular, or have changed so little over the centuries. It is still working its magic from the bottle, or mixed into myriad skin care potions.
Witch hazel’s magic extends to the very tips of its branches. The plant’s preference for growing in damp woods and stream corridors was noted by early settlers who believed that the plant could lead them to critical and elusive underground springs. “Water witching†dowsers selected forked witch hazel branches growing in a north-south orientation to create their divining rods. Then, holding the forked stick by the tines, they combed the landscape waiting for the telltale tug or bend of the stick, indicating an underground water source. It is likely that the name witch hazel is derived from “wicke hazel,†wicke being the early Anglo-Saxon word for bend.
Yet another of witch hazel’s peculiarities is its explosive means of seed dispersal. Requiring a full year to mature, witch hazel seeds are contained within woody capsules that ripen among this year’s flowers. If your timing is right, hiking through a hazel-filled woods on a warm fall day, you may hear the very audible, very random snapping of these seed capsules bursting open. The seeds are often propelled for yards and make a rustling sound as they hit the leaf litter. The clattering seeds and popping pods fill the woods with vibrancy.
Flowering in the fall and early winter is an interesting strategy for any plant. Pollinators are easier to attract with few other flowers competing, but then there are fewer pollinators.
To assist in the effort to lure late-season moths and flies to their bidding, witch hazel flowers bear four brilliant yellow, ribbonlike petals. The flowers produce an unmistakable, pleasant scent that surrounds the shrubs if the air is still. Not floral or sweet, but clear and piercing, and reminiscent of lemon zest, it is an invigorating addition to the scent of autumn leaves.
Few suspect how tough the spidery and delicate-looking witch hazel flowers are. No strangers to frost, snow and ice, they roll up in response to cold, protecting more sensitive flower parts. But during brief warm spells in autumn, the petals often unfurl, sometimes several times, strangely unharmed.
Look for witch hazel in damp woodlands on Staten Island. Alley Pond Park in Queens and Van Cortlandt Park in the Bronx are also good places to stop and smell the witch hazel this time of year.
