First recorded by the 16th-century naturalist William Turner, who wrote that “it bryngeth furth whyte floures in the end of harueste, and it is called Lady traces”, the orchid I’m searching for is notorious for occurring prolifically one year, then all but disappearing for several years before reappearing in vast numbers.
Averaging around 12cm in height, the greyish-green plants are inconspicuous among the sward, but once I get my eye in and spot one poking up behind a tussock of sheep’s fescue (Festuca ovina), more begin to appear. Soon I’ve counted around 50 flower spikes, but in previous years there have been closer to 500.
My hunting ground is the calcareous dune grassland at Sinah Common, a site of special scientific interest (SSSI) that supports an abundance of rare lichens, bryophytes and wildflowers, but autumn lady’s-tresses (Spiranthes spiralis), as they are now known, grow in a range of habitats from closely mown garden lawns and roadside verges, to rabbit-cropped cliff-tops and unimproved, well-grazed pasture on alkaline soils, with occasional records of plants colonising slightly acidic heathland.
The common name is something of a misnomer. While they do spend the warmer months in dormancy and are the last of our native orchids to bloom, in some years they begin to burst into flower in early August and their season is usually drawing to a close by the autumn equinox. The species name is more apt, derived from the appearance of the flowers, which coil helix-like around the upper half of the stem, resembling an intricately braided rope of hair.
From a distance, the plants have an ethereal, frosted appearance. Peering through my hand lens, I discover that the stem and petals are covered with downy transparent hairs. Each flower is just 5mm wide, with angular white petals winging out on either side of a crystalline-fringed lime-green labellum. Despite their diminutive size, they are pollinated by bumblebees, and this brightly coloured lower lip serves as both nectar signpost and landing pad.
Autumn lady’s-tresses are reputed to be fragrant, so I sniff an open bloom. At first there is no discernible perfume, but as I pull away I catch the faintest whiff of coconut, a fading scent of summer.
