In late November, after its leaves have changed to a beautiful golden yellow and fallen to the ground, and sometimes even after they have turned sodden from cold rains and no longer crunch crisply underfoot, you may still see the bright yellow flowers of witch hazel, if you are out for a woods walk and luck is with you.
Witch Hazel, Latin name Hamamelis virginiana, usually begins blooming in October, but it often still has blossoms after everything else in the forest appears to have shut down for the winter. Warm days will bring out just enough late season bees and gnats to pollinate the blossoms, as these insects are eager to top up their store of sugar before intense cold settles in. The flowers are also able to self-pollinate – a good strategy considering the potential for miserable weather in November. Plus, the plant does not go full speed ahead to make seeds. Fertilization of the ovule – the next step, which usually occurs right after pollination – does not take place until spring.
This brings us to another reason to visit witch hazel in autumn: the seedpods. They have been slowly growing fat over the summer and shed their seeds at the same time the flowers are blooming. Though the origin of the name “witch hazel” is disputed and confusing, the Latin name hamamelis is not. It refers to a plant that flowers and fruits at the same time. This is one of the few cases where sitting down to watch seeds leave their seedpods is worthwhile. On the right kind of fall day – dry and a little warmer than the other days – you can hear the popping sounds as witch hazel seed capsules explode, each catapulting two rice-sized shiny black seeds through the understory, sometimes to a distance of 20 or 30 feet. They may lie on the ground for two winters before germinating. Another way to experience this plant version of fireworks is to bring a few branches indoors when they are flowering. The relative warmth and dryness will soon have them popping. This is something I have never tried, but it is now high on my to-do list.
These popping seeds have taken a year to ripen, and the empty capsules will persist on the shrub for most of the following year. Roundish, hairy, and tan, they are a distinctive feature that will help you identify witch hazel in any season. That’s another nice thing about it: summer or winter, witch hazel is not like any other shrub. The egg-shaped leaves have nicely scalloped edges – not the confusing sharp-pointed teeth that so many other woody plants have – and the upper surface of the leaf is darker green than usual. Borne on slender, flattened branches, the plants look like something specially created for the garden and, indeed, many horticultural varieties are available, partly because the arching, layered branches are so appealing.
In the wild, witch hazel is often found in the shady understory of hardwood forests where it may grow to 25 feet high, though usually it is much shorter. The multiple stems are smooth, becoming scaly with age, and brown; the twigs are zigzag. South of central New England it frequently dominates the understory and can even be an aggressive invader of abandoned fields, so it’s good that there’s a market for it. In 1866 cutters began delivering witch hazel to Essex, Connecticut, where Thomas Newton Dickinson set up a distillery to manufacture the astringent lotion called witch hazel that has soothed itchy rashes and insect bites ever since. The company still operates from nearby Hamden. The stems are cut in winter, chipped, and distilled to produce an extract that is then mixed with alcohol. After being cut, witch hazel re-sprouts vigorously, and commercially harvested plants can be whacked to the ground again after five to eight years.
The Dickinson Company now produces more than 2 million gallons of witch hazel extract every year – almost the entire world’s supply. Some is sold as the familiar clear liquid used on inflamed skin, but it is also an ingredient in many skin products – from deodorants to soap. Dickinson is said to have gotten the recipe for witch hazel from the Indians. They used witch hazel for many of the same skin problems it is used for today.
Though shrubs are generally considered to be short-lived, there is a large multi-branched witch hazel that still flowers and pops seeds at the Arnold Arboretum in Boston, Massachusetts – it was collected as a young plant in 1883.