The Greening Moon went dark yesterday afternoon, but the trees have not quite embraced the green growing season. Many shrubs are leafed out and the grass is putting on inches every day, but most of the trees are only just hinting at leafy shade to come. The maples are still blooming, dropping their buds everywhere. Birches are washed with pale green, but not yet in full leaf. The apples and peaches have young leaves among their newly opened blossoms. But the locust trees are still completely bare. It is still a brownish time in Vermont woodlands.
But while the mountains are not yet swaddled in green, my garden has been rainbow hued all through the Greening Moon. Daffodils and hyacinths and squill painted the garden in bright gold and blue, peach and raspberry. Thalia and pheasants eye daffodils are still blooming, sending scent into the evening and brightening the perennial bed with their snowy blooms. The tulips I planted last fall in the veg garden and kept covered all winter are now filling those raised beds and half barrel planters with pink and lilac and white, underplanted with some deep blue hyacinths. The grape hyacinths are purpling the asparagus bed — which is still failing to produce much asparagus, but whatever. It will get there eventually. Meanwhile, pulmonaria, brunnera, trilliums and hellebore are blooming under the cedars. Creeping phlox is brushing the whole front bank in pastels. And the evil barberry is covered in its sweet smelling, lemon yellow flowers that draw pollinators from everywhere. The buzzing is audible from many meters away. This is the only reason I have not cut down that spiny monstrosity…
The season of flowers is upon us, and, appropriately, the Flower Moon is new today. It will be full on the last day of May (at 4:45am in my part of the world), which means that the Flower Moon will be blue. Not literally. This is the strange appellation modern humans have given to the second full moon in a calendar month (or sometimes the fourth full moon in a season). The Moon hardly ever appears blue, though it is possible to see a blueish moon after volcanic eruptions. But even then, it’s more steel than cerulean.
The Flower Moon goes dark on June 14th, with the Strawberry Moon following on the 15th. There probably will actually be strawberries by then, though most of my plants are not even in flower at the moment. Strawberries are quick. Once they decide to get going, they can go from a few small leaves to pendulous berries seemingly overnight. (OK that might be an exaggeration… but not by much…) Over in the veg beds, the peas have decided to take off this week. The plants were tiny sprouts just a week or so ago. Now, they’re a foot tall and putting on inches every day. Similarly, the greens in my cold frame have moved beyond pale microgreens and will soon fill daily salad bowls with flavorful arugula, romaine, oakleaf lettuce, and small mustards and kales. So the harvest season is imminent… even though I still haven’t managed to get the nightshades out of the guest bedroom and the tender herbs out of the basement.
It has been a cold, grey spring, following a long, wet winter. No Mow May is proving to be a challenge with the way the grass is growing. But violets, clover and dandelions are worth letting the grass get long, and the speedwell that escaped my herb bed is covered in a wash of clear sky-blue flowers. 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. 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 speedwell 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 of cut grass. 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 falls just after the traditional May cold snap this year. Friday was Cold Sophie’s Day, and it was indeed cold. And wet. It started raining Wednesday night. It did not stop until Saturday morning. And the temperature never got out of the 40s. But after Sophie’s Day, we can usually expect warmer weather. And, indeed, today we may see sun and temperatures in the 70s. Finally. We are so tired of cold here in Vermont. Some are wondering if we’re even going to have a summer this year. And, sadly, there may be another round of frost later this week. But at least it will be drier, they say, as the Flower Moon waxes. By the end of the lunation, we may even be looking back with longing at the long string of wet days and flood warnings. The long range forecast in this deepening El Niño year is for drought. (Because we can’t have nice weather…)
But the Flower Moon is no time for whiny slack. Even with the cold damp, the garden work is becoming alarming. In this moon cycle 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 flowers must be planted out. 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. So as the Flower Moon waxes full, we’ll be working manically to get everything going.
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 lunation is typically 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. This year the main eye candy in the skies will be the pairing of bright Venus and Jupiter. This will last throughout the Flower Moon, with the closest conjunction occurring in the evening skies just after the full moon. This week, the crescent moon will be dancing with the bright planets. On the 18th, the Moon will be in tight conjunction with Venus low in the western skies. On the 19th, the Moon will be between Venus and Jupiter, and the Moon will be just above Jupiter on the 20th. All three apparitions will be best visible just after sunset, which happens a bit after 8pm in my part of the world.
And these late sunsets and early sunrises are the chief feature of the Flower Moon. Today, the sun rose at about 5:20am here in central Vermont. It will not set again until 8:12pm tonight. By the dark moon, the earliest sunrises of the year (5:05am) will be upon us, and the solstice will be just days away. Throughout all but the first few days of the Flower 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 2026
By My Solitary Hearth 