Ladies’ Tresses 
September 20. —On grassy roadside banks the last 
orchid of the year is now blooming, the odd little flower 
which we know as ladies’ tresses. Sixty odd years ago 
this, with other wildings, seemingly dropped by Proserpine, 
nodded farewell and godspeed to Thoreau as he set off 
upon that memorable week’s voyage on the Concord and 
Merrimac Rivers which was to add a rare volume to the 
world’s library. The greenish-white blossoms are curi¬ 
ously arranged in a spiral around the stalk, a unique charac¬ 
teristic by which the plant may readily be recognized. 
The appropriateness of its common appellation is hardly 
apparent to the practical mind, for ladies, unless they be 
mermaids, do not customarily possess greenish-white tresses. 
An older name for it, still heard in England, is ladies’ 
traces, which may mean the twisted cords used in old times 
for lacing up the feminine bodice. The flowers when 
closely examined are seen to have a delicate frosted look, as 
though the coming event of frosty days were foreshadowed 
in their late-opening chalices. 
Though oak trees are associated in the popular mind 
with massive strength, as a matter of fact some oaks are 
among the most dwarfish of trees. The chinquapin oak, 
for instance, which is abundant in dry soil is a veritable 
arboreal Tom Thumb. In our neighborhood its usual 
height is about three or four feet, but sometimes it is not 
over two feet high, while its maximum is believed to be 
twelve. It is, nevertheless, a charming shrub, and owes its 
name doubtless to its being a miniature edition of its cousin, 
the chestnut oak. At this time of year its acorns are ma¬ 
turing and are borne in remarkable abundance. They 
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