Before 7am, the heat is already pressing down. I’ve come out early for my annual pilgrimage to a local colony of crested cow‑wheat, Melampyrum cristatum. On each side of the narrow path, orchids stand among the grasses, overtopped by the pale pink froth of common valerian flowers, whose scent always puts me in mind of sugared almonds. Stock doves call gently from an oak. Around my boots, grasshoppers and crickets fizz and spring aside.
In among it, to my excitement, is a tangled abundance, thousands of plants jostling with mats of wild liquorice. The flowers repay close attention – soft primrose-coloured tubes with plush mouths, stacked one above another, flushing magenta with age, each held in a purplish bract, elegantly curved and sharply toothed. This is the crest that gives the plant both its common and scientific names.
