Except of ENCHANTING WITCH HAZELS by Chris Strand

Sweet. Fetid. Honeylike. Musky. Cloying. Spicy. Standing with a group of gardeners as we examine a young shrub in full bloom, I am struck by our varied perceptions of a single scent. Even more striking, perhaps, is the fact that we are enjoying these flowers and their fragrance on a January day with the temperature hovering around 40 degrees Fahrenheit. The object of our attention is a vernal witch hazel, and it has the remarkable—almost magical—ability to flower in January despite the cold.

Witch hazels are versatile shrubs with a beauty that is equally at home in the cottage garden and the formal landscape. The genus Hamamelis can provide flowers from the frosts of October through the late snow flurries of March, and yet this is not some banana-belt rarity. Witch hazels are commonly available, hardy shrubs that survive in USDA Hardiness Zones 4 through 8. In addition to fall or winter flowers, they have beautiful autumn foliage color and an intriguing angular profile that complements other ornamental plants. And this versatility is provided by just five major species.

SEQUENTIAL SPECIES

All witch hazels flower at unusual times, a characteristic that adds considerably to their value in the landscape. As with most plants, flowering times can vary quite a bit depending on local growing conditions. While mild temperatures cause plants to flower earlier, cool temperatures can extend flowering by preserving individual blossoms for several weeks. The flowers are well adapted to the cold; to protect themselves from very low temperatures, the individual petals will curl up like tiny clock springs.

Here in the mid-Atlantic, the common witch hazel (Hamamelis virginiana, USDA Hardiness Zone 3–8, AHS Heat Zone 8–1) begins the witch hazel season with flowers in September or October, depending on the weather. This witch hazel is found in woodland settings but is adaptable and can grow in a wide range of habitats from Canada to Florida and from the East Coast to as far west as Texas. It is not uncommon to catch the scent of the threadlike yellow-petaled flowers before you see them, as they often compete with fall foliage for our attention.

Next, the vernal witch hazel (H. vernalis, Zones 4–8, 8–1) starts flowering in January. It is the real stalwart of the bunch, often flowering with frost on its petals. The vernal witch hazel is native to the gravelly banks of streams in the Arkansas and Missouri river drainages. The short-petaled flowers are typically red and extremely fragrant, but no two people seem to experience this unique scent in quite the same way.

In February, the Chinese witch hazel (H. mollis, Zones 5–8, 9–1), the Japanese witch hazel (H. japonica, Zones 5–9, 9–5), and the hybrid witch hazel (H. 5intermedia, Zones 5–9, 9–1) begin to flower. The Chinese witch hazel is very floriferous. A mature specimen can be clothed in thousands of chrome-yellow flowers that give off a sweet, clean odor that reminds me somewhat of soap.

The Japanese witch hazel, while not quite as floriferous, can have flowers that are yellow, red, or a colorful combination of the two. With delicately curled petals reminiscent of crêpe paper, the blossoms are beautiful individually and en masse. Japanese witch hazels have the best autumn color of the various species—with mottled crimson, orange, and yellow leaves.

The hybrid witch hazel, a cross between the Chinese and Japanese witch hazels, combines some of the best characteristics of both. Hybrid witch hazels are very floriferous and fragrant and have been selected to provide a wide range of flower color—pale lemon yellow to deep carmine red. In addition, hybrid witch hazels have some of the best fall color to be found among ornamental shrubs, with all the hues of sugar maples and tupelos in one compact package.

STRAPPING BLOOMS

Although the flowers of all witch hazels are similar in form, as a group they are rather unusual. Each blossom consists of four petals radiating outward from a leathery calyx. The narrow petals vary in length from a quarter to one inch long and can be as smooth as a piece of ribbon or twisted like crêpe paper. Individually, the flowers—which are arranged along the branches in clusters—are curious but not all that showy. However, when they clothe a shrub in the hundreds and thousands—as they do at peak bloom—the effect is stunning.

AHS members can view this article in its entirety by clicking here.