The spider lilies are captivating flowers that bloom around the autumn equinox, which gives rise to their Japanese name Higanbana, "flower of the equinox". The English name, "Spider Lily", instead refers to the flower's appearance, with petals that resemble spider legs. They do kind of look like spider legs, don't they?

They are a little late in blooming this year, undoubtably because of the incredible heat this summer (in this area, temperatures have consistently been about 5-10 degrees Celsius above the average), but they did eventually come.

Some people consider them a bit of a spooky flower. That probably has to do with two things: their symbolism related to the afterlife and the myths surrounding them. It is not uncommon to find them near cemeteries. There are several reasons for this.

The roots of the flower contain toxins. Because of this they are often planted near rice paddies. The thinking was that they would repel pests. In old days, before Japan started cremating their dead, it was also thought to repel pests from the cemeteries and keep them from feasting on the dead.

They are believed to line the banks of the River Sanzu, a mythical river that guides the dead to the afterlife. It is also thought that they guide the dead through the afterlife and towards their next birth.

There is another myth that tells of two lovers who were separated by the gods, one taken to heaven and one to the underworld. The higanbana bloomed along the river that separated them. Because of this, it is said that when two people part after their final meeting, higanbana will bloom in that space.

Like many elements in Japanese culture, these flowers serve as a poignant reminder of life's impermanence, with their blooms lasting just a week or two.

Haiku often capture the essence of nature and life's fleeting moments. My favorite haiku poet, Santōka, penned several verses about spider lilies. Here's one:

移つてきてお彼岸花の花ざかり
utsuri kite ohiganbana no hana zakari

settled in—
the spider lilies
in full bloom

He wrote this after moving to Goshū-an in the early 1930s, the hermitage where he lived for the final years of his life. Given the flower's associations with death, the afterlife, and transitions, we can see that Santōka had a lot on his mind and may have been hinting at all kind of things here.

With that, I'll conclude this glimpse into the world of spider lilies. Does this flower grow in your country? Let me know in the comments.

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David LaSpina is an American photographer and translator lost in Japan, trying to capture the beauty of this country one photo at a time and searching for the perfect haiku.