I was putting out the cat the other night and as I opened the door and forced the struggling mass of claws and fur into the cold, crisp night I was taken aback by the clearness of the sky. Growing up in the countryside with a lack of streetlights and general light pollution I was used to impossibly starry nights or a full moon bathing the countryside in its silvery, ethereal light. Now that I live in an artificially lit urban sprawl I rarely get to experience the same breathtaking displays of twinkling stars with the background glow of the Milky Way as it washes across the sky. These days I’m lucky to see a fuzzy moon, the Evening Star and a few other bright objects if the sky is clear, many of which are man made. As are any Milky Ways I see incidentally.
This night was different. The moon was three-quarters full and you could see every pockmark and blemish on its surface. Towards the south, straight in my line of vision were the three stars of the Belt of Orion, brilliant and clear, as were the rest of that constellation with Betelgeuse twinkling pinkishly on Orion’s right shoulder and Rigel marking his left foot, as clear as I have ever seen them. There were other stars visible everywhere as I looked up through the canopy of growth on the pergola over my deck. The whole effect was marred only slightly by the cat trying desperately to get back into the house, only to find his way blocked by the size nine boot on the foot of a leg, attached to a body, which held my literally moonstruck face. I was speechless, and to think people say I’m not a romantic soul!
Well one person says it anyway.
I’m not the first gardener to be affected by the moon and stars. Planting by moonlight and by the phases of the moon has gone on for thousands of years. Our ancestors must have felt it influenced the sowing of crops in the same way that they worshiped the other celestial bodies for other reasons. In the hippy-dippy days of the last century, and also this one, there’s been a revival of these theories again, but I have to say I’m not convinced.
There are many books, articles and websites that claim that planting by the phases of moon or by the movements of the stars and planets – biodynamic gardening - can help to increase the quantity and quality of your crops but I just don’t buy it. Many of the theories they set out are conflicting, and although it’s obvious and logical that the moon can influence the tides and that it stops our planet spinning towards the outer reaches of space, I think that’s it really. Claims have been made about moisture being pulled to the top of the soil or around the plants themselves like seawater being pulled around the planet but that doesn’t seem to make much sense. And as for how a collection of stars that form a shape only noticeable from our little planet can affect things? Well…I guess you can see I’m not a big fan of astrology either. Call me a Doubting Thomas but I would really have to see some bona fide proof. But if any of you want to do some experimenting then feel free. Just don’t blame me if the neighbours avoid you on the street when you’re seen planting onions with the moonlight glinting off your hoe.
What I do agree with is a moonlight garden, as in one that looks good by the light of the moon. If I had the space I would certainly have one section of my garden themed this way, although it’s easy enough to incorporate a few lunar landscaping ideas in to any garden.
Moonlit gardens are easy enough to achieve, as all you need are plants that look or smell good in the moonlight. The most obvious plants are those with large, pure-white flowers that reflect the moon’s glow. Good options would be white Cosmos, single white roses such as ‘White Wings’ and white flowered Cistus. Silver coloured foliage is also a good bet so plants such as Cotton Lavender (Santolina chamaecyparissus), Lamb’s Ears (Stachys lanata) and somewhat invasive Snow-in-Summer (Cerastium tomentosum), that one has the added bonus of white flowers too. The blooms on some plants close up at night so there might be a bit of trial and error with your selection.
Fragrant plants such as white Lilac would be a good choice, as you would get both the flower colour and the fragrance. White Buddleia would be another good option for flowers and scent. Clematis armandii and Summer Jasmine (Jasmine officinalis) are strongly scented, white-flowered climbing plants. That’s just a few options but really the choice is endless.
Have a think about it. Picture a moonlit night with flowers glowing ghost-like in the garden and wonderfully subtle scents wafting through the air as you sip your white wine on a balmy August evening. You lie back on your sunlounger and stare at the stars as the twinkle back at you. A shooting star streaks across the sky and you make a wish. All the while the cat is purring gently on your lap and the sound of soft music, playing low and crackly on your old vinyl record player, spills out from the living room. You nod off to sleep only to be woken by a kiss from your one true love…
And she says I’m not romantic! Huh!
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