Witch hazel, home

Well in advance of Halloween, the witches are out... but seeing them is hardly cause for alarm. Concern, perhaps, since the opening of the Witch Hazel flowers is a sign that autumn is solidly here and chilliness is approaching—the genuine cause for concern is the current meager state of my woodpile—but alarm, not so. The appearance of those odd, strap-like blossoms is more cause for a deep and abiding curiosity, since, in the botanical universe of the Northeast, Witch Hazel is a floral outlier, blossoming at the tail end of the growing season. Except for some unexpected flowers on Forsythia and Franklinia, neither of which are native species to our area, no native trees or shrubs bloom at this time—except one: Hamamelis virginiana. This common shrub puts on an uncommonly gorgeous show in woodlands through our neighborhood, and the sweet-smelling blooms are most often pollinated by night-flying moths. The little jumping spider waiting patiently below the bloom is anticipating lepidopteran, not haunted, traffic... and dinner.