In the absence of frost, decay is slow.
In an abundance of wet, the decay is vibrant. Colors linger well past the average expiration date.
This ending is the signal for the Witch Hazel to bloom.
On the edge of a forest, high on a mountain, a grove of Witches perform an annual ritual.
Something is in the air.
It is more than decay.
The light changes. The magic changes.
Where the native Witch Hazel blooms.