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A slender blue orchid with three curled petals the color of pond ice, resting on a stem so thin it bends under the weight of its own bloom. The scent arrives only after dusk, and only if you are not expecting it.
Entry
Chronicle
Grown in pocket glades where a spring runs shallow over granite, and tended informally by the small number of hedge-keepers who still remember the orchid's full proper name. Collectors pay well for a fresh cutting, which is why most patches have been stripped at least once in living memory. The surviving stands are the ones somebody has chosen to protect quietly, and those keepers are not taking new apprentices.