Have you ever felt inspired to try gardening by the moon? Or do you already follow this practice?
After a recent experience, I’ve decided to dip my toe into the water and give it a try. What follows is the slightly roundabout way I found myself drawn to this lunar approach to gardening. And why it already feels a little bit like magic.
Gardening by Moon – The Inspiration
Returning home from walking the dogs in the fading light of Thursday evening, my eyes were drawn upwards by a squirrel performing some rather impressive parkour in the trees, showering both me and the pavement with leaves and acorns as it went on its way. Amusing though this was, my attention was soon stolen by a beautiful gibbous moon shining through the branches. (Sadly, the photograph I took is nothing more than a tiny speck surrounded by blobs.)
I stood motionless for a moment — dogs tugging impatiently at their leads — looking up. I was enthralled. One of those spellbound moments where the world fades away and awe takes over. The air was calm and cool, tinged with the unmistakable scent of damp leaves and woodsmoke. It felt like something from a fairy tale.
The moon never fails to stop me in my tracks. There’s something both familiar and otherworldly about her. A quiet reminder of the natural cycles unfolding, whether I’m paying attention or not. She’s waxing now, growing toward fullness on November 5th, the second in a trio of supermoons gracing our autumn skies. The first was on October 7th, and Today’s will be followed by another on December 4th. Feels special doesn’t it?
Childhood Wonder and My Inner Witch
My interest in all things lunar has been well and truly piqued this past week. Maybe, instinctively, I’ve known that reconnecting with the rhythms of nature is a great way to lift my low mood. Or maybe it’s just the Halloween-y vibes bringing out my inner witch.
The days around Halloween, or Samhain, feel especially enchanting, they have done for as long as I can remember. I am sure it’s my inner child! The one who was always fascinated by magical beings: fairies, mermaids, witches, to name but a few. I would pore over story books for hours, drinking in the magic.
My mother encouraged my vivid imagination and love of stories. She told me there were fairies at the bottom of the garden. All I had to do was sit there, very still and quiet and they would come out to dance. I have to hand it to her; that was a genius way to get a few hours of peace.
That sense of wonder never left me; it’s just changed shape. These days, the magic I look for isn’t in tiny winged folk or the sirens of the sea. It’s in moonlight casting silvery shadows across the garden. In the hush of dusk. In the quiet persistence of life beneath the soil. Not quite tangible, but very real nonetheless.
Everyday Magic in the Garden
As Roald Dahl said, “Those who don’t believe in magic will never find it.” I’ve come to believe in the quiet, everyday magic that reveals itself if you take the time to notice. A tiny seed planted in the soil, a scrap of hope for the future, incredible potential contained within. The smallest creatures that live among the rotting vegetation, breathing life into decay. The bees that dance. The caterpillars that metamorphose. The migration of birds. To me, this is all magic – profound change shaped by Mother Nature herself.
And above it all, the moon keeps her own ancient time — constant yet ever-changing. She tugs at the tides and lights the path for night wanderers. She watches silently over the sleeping vegetable beds for those who are gardening by the moon.
As she waxes toward fullness, I feel that same quiet pull to grow. To gather my scattered thoughts and lift myself out of my doldrums. to plant new intentions, and to trust that, in time, they’ll find their moment to bloom. The moon reminds me that nothing in nature rushes, yet everything changes.
Gardening by the Moon — Wellies, a Wheelbarrow, and a Little Witchcraft
With the moon in mind, I flicked through my almanac for 2025 looking up October and November. I came across a section about gardening by the moon. This is the old belief that the moon’s phases can guide when to sow, plant, and harvest. I’d always thought it was for vegetable growers, so I hadn’t considered it before. I’ve been far more interested in growing nectar-rich flowers to feed the bees than in producing the perfect carrot.
However, my chillies and tomatoes are coming to their end now, which will free up some greenhouse space. I’m planning to try a few winter salads. My previous attempts haven’t been overly successful, although the slugs certainly enjoyed my efforts! This time I’m going to employ a little lunar magic – gardening by the moon to stack the odds in my favour. Wellies, wheelbarrows and some gardening witchcraft, sounds fabulous to me!
From the first quarter to the full moon (30th October–5th November, with a 13:19 cut-off) is the best time for sowing crops that grow above ground. So unless I get this written, and my salad sown pretty quick-smart, I’ll miss the window and have to wait until around the 20th of November.
These remaining few hours are also a good time to fertilise soil (I do have some mature manure to deploy!). Wellie boots and wheelbarrow at the ready! I can also sow sweet peas in the greenhouse, which is both interesting and exciting — I adore sweet peas! I am on the final count down now!
This moon gardening project all ticks the boxes for the 5 ways to wellbeing. learning, being active, connecting – there are facebook groups, giving, and taking notice. Wow… go me!
Manifesting by Moonlight
These past few days leading up to the full moon are also said to be especially good for growth, attraction, and drawing things toward you. Another wonderful bit of lunar wisdom I can certainly get on board with. Planting salads and sweet peas is growth in the physical sense. But writing this blog brings me personal growth too. It holds me accountable and focuses my mind.
By pouring my heart into the things that inspire me, I hope to attract more joy into my life — drawing towards me more of what I love. Instead of letting the seasonal sadness become a burden, I’m choosing to create light by embracing the darkness and working within it. After all, you can’t have light without darkness — cliché, yes, but true.
As I potter in the garden during the shortening days — tidying here and there, shaking old seed heads around the flowerbeds and wishing them well for the cold months ahead — I realise that this too is magic: a quiet spell of patience, hope, and faith in renewal.
Everything in nature — the animals, the insects, even the smallest seed in the soil beneath my feet — is simply doing what it must to grow and live on; slowing down and trusting the process.
And that’s all I need to do as well — slow down, trust the process, and use the darkness for growth, not grumbling.
🌕 Further Reading
If you fancy something else to inspire you during these shorter days, it’s the perfect time for cosy meals and comfort food — you can check out why cooking is a form of self-care for a little extra warmth and inspiration.
🌝 The Almanac I mentioned
Feeling inspired by all this moon talk? You can find next year’s Almanac here. No affiliation — just a lover of nature and finding out what the year ahead holds.