A population of about fifteen in bloom on the hills of . (Thanks @ for help with the ID!) During the day, they keep themselves closed-up and quiet. Towards evening, they unfurl, releasing an extraordinarily strong scent. Even within this small popluation, the range of perfumes was broad. Some smelt thickly of honeysuckle and cream, with an almost cold lilylike afterscent. Others gave off a very powerful note of cloves. Several had the attention of small nightbeetles or moths. The specific epithet "hyalinus" derives from the Ancient Greek ὕαλος (hýalos), which can refer to glass, but also to rock crystal, or any particularly clear stone; Achilles Tatius describes it as ὀρωρυγμένη (orо̄rygmenē), "quarried" or "dug up", suggesting a natural origin for at least some ancient hýalos. When applied to this particular little glad, "hyaline" refers to the translucent sections of the dorsal and lateral tepals. By day, these sections look somewhat murky, or even cartilaginous, but by night, they catch the sunset like a tapetum lucidum, turning each flower into a golden banner in the evening. I've been looking for these guys for a long time, and super happy to have seen them at least.