The Greenleaf Moon went dark yesterday afternoon without bringing much in the way of green leaves, though we are much closer to that than we were last week. Leaf casings are opening up. The maples are in full bloom. My pussy willows are almost done blooming. And the peach tree is just on the edge of flowering. Leaves are sure to follow soon.
However, we’ve had more flowers than leaves in the Greenleaf Moon. Snowdrops have come and gone. Squill is nearly done. Daffodils and hyacinths are at their peak. The few early tulips I have, planted in the roses outside the fence where there is no protection for diggers, are already open. The spring beauties (claytonia virginica) are blanketing the shade garden with argent blossoms. Pulmonaria is making tiny magenta and azure bells in the perennial bed. The azalea by the front steps is covered in pale pink. The first trillium bloomed in Saturday’s warm rain. And Floralia began yesterday, regardless of the light snow that fell in the afternoon. Thursday is May Day, Bealtaine, the traditional beginning of summer.
The season of flowers is upon us, and, appropriately, the Flower Moon is new today. It will be full May 12th at 12:56pm. It will go dark on Memorial Day, Monday, May 26th at 11:02pm, which is almost May 27th. The next moon, the Strawberry Moon, may or may not be visible on Tuesday the 27th, but I’ll call it new anyway.
It has been a cold, grey spring, following a long, wet winter. No Mow May is going to be a challenge with the way the grass is coming on. But clover and dandelions are worth letting the grass get long. I also have some rodent-planted bulbs coming up in the lawn that I am loathe to cut down. Charming dwarf iris are blooming where I never intended to have iris. Stray large-flowered crocus are coming up in the grass next to the garage. I don’t recall planting crocus on that side of the street, so that took a bit of work from the squirrels and chipmunks. It’s all very lovely, though it will probably choke my rotary mower at the end of May. I’ll probably need to dig out the electric for the first round of cutting, and even then there will be lots of hand trimming — because the big mower doesn’t fit in many of the small spaces where grass grows in this garden. But for me No Mow May is an obligation as well as a joy; and, however much it will be a chore in June, I’ll not be cutting the grass before the dandelions run to seed.
No Mow May began a while ago in the UK to allow yard weeds to flower and produce much-needed food for newly emerging insects. The movement spread to the US in the last few years and has been gaining popularity across the country. Appleton, Wisconsin even convinced their City Council to suspend the city’s weed ordinance through the end of May. This is more than just allowing some weeds to bloom, however. The point is that we share this planet with so many other beings, many of which we depend upon for our own lives. And yet we don’t actually share all that well. Most yards are intentionally turned into dead zones with weed-killers and pesticides and over-fertilization. Cutting the grass kills most other plants. Few can survive repeated mowings, and those that can find that their ability to regenerate is severely curtailed, whether from cutting off flowers or from soil compaction under heavy machinery destroying stolons and all but the deepest rhizomes. This is sad. But it’s also stupid. If there are no flowers, there are no insects. No pollinators. No decomposers. No food for hungry birds. No food for anyone… In addition to the ethics and aesthetics involved, a manicured lawn comes down to self-harm. Like most things we do…
I have been diligently turning my whole property into a no-mow zone, rewilding parts, and heavily relying on flowering natives and the pollinator powerhouse herbs like echinacea and lavender in the cultivated beds. I’ve cut the lawn down to a few paths. I’ve also planted native grasses and sedges, both in the lawn and along the borders to provide nutritious seeds for all the bellies that live here with me. I do tend to keep the remaining lawn trimmed low, but that’s more to keep the fescue and crabgrass in check, to keep grass from running riot all over everything else. If I could have a lawn of clover and chickweed and purslane I might not mow at all.
Of course, I have to admit that I am just not very fond of grass. I don’t like walking in it. I don’t like the smell. I’m uncomfortably allergic to the minuscule flowers. I find it a pointless waste of soil — which is exactly the point of a lawn, to flaunt the fact that you have land to waste. Something I also hate about grass, though really my resentment ought to be aimed at the humans who began this nonsense. But they’re not here. The grass is, and it takes the direct force of my antipathy.
I suspect grass also hates the lawn and the way we grow it. Forced to endure weekly shavings. Never allowed to reach maturity. Planted in all types of inappropriate places and expected to thrive. Shorn of all contact with its companion species both above and below ground. Perhaps that is why grass is so unruly. It hates us for all this and wants to make us as miserable as it is.
The first week of the Flower Moon coincides with the first week of May this year. This is the traditional beginning of summer in many European cultures, where “summer” is not defined by the calendar, nor even necessarily by the weather, but rather the beginning of the growing season — which is a function of day length, more so than weather. This is when the days are long enough to support rampant plant growth and the incumbent labor that entails. We may have planted peas and brassicas back in March, but May is when work in the garden begins in earnest. The early plant starts are put in the warming soil. Most tender seeds can be sown outdoors. And there is enough grass for abundant milk. In traditional northern pastoral cultures, this is when the ruminants are led out of the barnyard and up into the newly green hills where they can eat their fill with no labor at all required of the farmer.
The Flower Moon is also defined by, well, flowers. Not only are they beautiful and heart-warming, but they are harbingers of fruit. Some are food in their own right. Many are medicinal. And they all draw life. Truthfully, flowers are magical fountains of life. Of course, we celebrate these marvelous things! That these are plant reproductive parts makes the Flower Moon all the more seductive. They symbolize the wanton fertility we would like to see in our own lives. In any case, this beginning of May, the beginning of the season of growth, is replete with holidays, most of them ancient and ingrained in our being. From maypoles and bonfires and well dressing to blessing of the sea and beating the bounds, these are our oldest and most durable traditions.
However, after a first week of solid celebration, we get down to the business of growth, and the festivities thin noticeably. What remains is mostly of recent provenance like Mother’s Day and Memorial Day, though the latter has its roots in Garland Sunday which, in turn, harkens back to the Rosalia of Roman times. Still, May is busy, no time for slack. The spring-planted veg is fruiting and requires processing. Herbs used for their leaves and flowers are at their prime and also require processing to make the most of their beneficial qualities. All the frost-tender summer veggies and and flowers must be planted. These make up the bulk of the garden. Plant potatoes when the dandelions bloom. Plant beans, cucumbers and squash when lilac blossoms are spent. Plant sunflowers, marigolds and zinnias when the apple trees are blooming. Plant everything well before the wilting heat of June sets in.
And then try to keep up. The latter half of the Flower Moon is when planting turns to cultivation. There is garden work every day. And if you neglect it, it will very quickly get out of hand. So pull weeds while they are still young and weakly rooted. Trim back spent blooms to encourage rebloom and to keep aggressive seeders from spreading willy-nilly. Thin seedlings and nascent fruitlets to reduce competition for nutrients and water. Give your plants water. Water. And more water! This is when the wet storms around the equinox give way to the dull, dry days around the solstice. I am forever carrying watering cans across the road to fill up the rain barrel in my veg garden.
The Flower Moon also sees the return of the groundhog, along with many other pests. It may be counterintuitive, but No Mow May actually helps reduce garden predation by providing food for the rodents and providing shelter and food for beneficial insects who will prey on the plant pests. The more diverse your garden, the less you have to work to protect it. Also there are more paths to food for you. Violets and dandelions not only feed native bees and chipmunks, you can eat them as well. Clover not only feeds the soil and the larvae of many beneficial insects, but it makes the best honey — and milk, if you have a goat or three. And red clover makes a healthful and delicious tea as well as a lively addition to salads. Chickweed and purslane are just fantastic plants, delicious and nutritious, as well as host to all sorts of garden protectors and pollinators. And rodents of all forms love them! I have intentionally sown clover, chickweed and purslane seed in the lawn just to keep the ground squirrels and groundhogs away from my veg.
The Flower Moon is definitely a time for earthly pursuits. However, it is not so great for sky-watching. Perhaps we’ll get a reprise of the strong aurora borealis of 2024. The sun is still at the peak of its 11-year cycle, with unusually strong flares still super-charging our atmosphere, so it’s not unlikely. But not much else is happening in the sky right now. Mars is fading. Jupiter is sinking into the sun. Venus is a morning star, and Saturn will join her mid-month. There are no eclipses this year, no major transits and occlusions of stars or planets. There is a weak meteor shower on the morning of the 4th, the Eta Aquarids, but these are hardly worth getting up before the early sunrise.
Which is the chief feature of the Flower Moon. The sun rose at 5:45am here in central Vermont. It will set at 7:50pm. By the dark moon, night lasts less than nine hours with hours of twilight on both ends of the day. There isn’t much night sky activity in this moon, but there also isn’t that much night sky. The Flower Moon is the day’s time. It is time to blossom in the sunshine. It is time to grow. And it is time to be awake and doing!
©Elizabeth Anker 2025
By My Solitary Hearth 