I'm not much of a night owl as the years roll by. As a child, I became fascinated with the Night Bloomin Cereus that was perched on grandmother's back porch. It was splayed in every direction with it huge white blossoms. If I remember correctly, it is a cactus from Central and South America.
My Grandmother grew up in a small farming community - Harleyville, SC. Both sides of her family inhabited this community, farmers, shop keepers and everything in between. Whenever someone’s night blooming Cereus was ready to bloom the entire community gather at the home of the plant owner for a dance. Among the community there were amateur musicians who played for the dancers. According to one of her brothers my Grandmother on two occasions had to run home and get a different pair of shoes because she had worn out her dancing shoes. I have always loved this imagine of a life before electricity and autos in this small community, where a flowering plant meant a quickly arranged party for much of the community.
In my case, living in a home with 20 long leaf pines in the yard - needing to rake three times a week means flood lights, raking and spreading pine straw at night. I also have been know to use a spotlight to decimate the slug population near my garden.
Night blooming cereus is also my favorite. I have an old cutting off my mother's plant that's bloomed for years, and I have given away numerous cuttings. The fragrance is amazing, and I'll get up fifteen times at night to see one bloom!!
I'm reading your work (obsessively) as I plan my dream garden here in Phoenix, so I have not experienced night-time anything, but man oh man did this get me excited for it! I definitely want to see cacti glow, if that is a thing...?
I don’t actually work in the garden at night but enjoy being part of it , watering and watching the sky. The tree frogs are especially loud in our city garden and along with the watery fountain sounds can really help drown out the traffic noise. We have resident barred owls that love our big oak and poplar for a perch on their nightly rounds. The Cereus and moon vine are always a treat. Summer nights are especially active for the coons and possums and cats who regularly come through for water and nosing through the compost bins.
Moths and Bats swoop and glide through our little plot and I still love watching the lighting bugs. Night in the garden is the time I add to my ‘do this tomorrow’ list in the garden. Walking the paths and making mental notes whilst training the new growth on vines and studying the growth patterns.
We have a moon viewing bench on a little rise at the back of the garden that affords a view of the sky at sunset ,a favorite meet up spot at days end.
We have been in this garden for 27 years now and have planted tall trees and shrubs around the perimeter to block out the street lights. We still have a neighbor’s floodlight that I call the ‘penetintary light ‘ that still creates a scream of light our trees have yet to block. They being on a hill behind us, the leyland has yet to grow tall enough. True darkness is a rare gift in the city.
Same here. And I’m getting that feeling from lots of folks so I still think it’s a good chapter — even if we’re not going to do, knowing a bit about what’s going out there is fun and important. What’s your vote - nix the chapter or keep it?
I’m fascinated by the idea of using a black light. My most memorable experience was seeing literally hundreds of spiders in the grass when a regular flashlight beam hit at an angle so there was a reflection formed. Initially I thought it was silica but on closer inspection saw that it moved! I will have to look into getting a small black light!
I'm not much of a night owl as the years roll by. As a child, I became fascinated with the Night Bloomin Cereus that was perched on grandmother's back porch. It was splayed in every direction with it huge white blossoms. If I remember correctly, it is a cactus from Central and South America.
I love the form of their leaves and stems as much as I do the flowers. And they root so easy!
Moon vines a special night blessing!
And a great one to save seed to pass on...
My Grandmother grew up in a small farming community - Harleyville, SC. Both sides of her family inhabited this community, farmers, shop keepers and everything in between. Whenever someone’s night blooming Cereus was ready to bloom the entire community gather at the home of the plant owner for a dance. Among the community there were amateur musicians who played for the dancers. According to one of her brothers my Grandmother on two occasions had to run home and get a different pair of shoes because she had worn out her dancing shoes. I have always loved this imagine of a life before electricity and autos in this small community, where a flowering plant meant a quickly arranged party for much of the community.
In my case, living in a home with 20 long leaf pines in the yard - needing to rake three times a week means flood lights, raking and spreading pine straw at night. I also have been know to use a spotlight to decimate the slug population near my garden.
Certainly. zi haven’t check messages in months - sorry.
So sweet. Can I make a reference to that in something I’m writing?
Night blooming cereus is also my favorite. I have an old cutting off my mother's plant that's bloomed for years, and I have given away numerous cuttings. The fragrance is amazing, and I'll get up fifteen times at night to see one bloom!!
I'm reading your work (obsessively) as I plan my dream garden here in Phoenix, so I have not experienced night-time anything, but man oh man did this get me excited for it! I definitely want to see cacti glow, if that is a thing...?
I don’t actually work in the garden at night but enjoy being part of it , watering and watching the sky. The tree frogs are especially loud in our city garden and along with the watery fountain sounds can really help drown out the traffic noise. We have resident barred owls that love our big oak and poplar for a perch on their nightly rounds. The Cereus and moon vine are always a treat. Summer nights are especially active for the coons and possums and cats who regularly come through for water and nosing through the compost bins.
Moths and Bats swoop and glide through our little plot and I still love watching the lighting bugs. Night in the garden is the time I add to my ‘do this tomorrow’ list in the garden. Walking the paths and making mental notes whilst training the new growth on vines and studying the growth patterns.
We have a moon viewing bench on a little rise at the back of the garden that affords a view of the sky at sunset ,a favorite meet up spot at days end.
We have been in this garden for 27 years now and have planted tall trees and shrubs around the perimeter to block out the street lights. We still have a neighbor’s floodlight that I call the ‘penetintary light ‘ that still creates a scream of light our trees have yet to block. They being on a hill behind us, the leyland has yet to grow tall enough. True darkness is a rare gift in the city.
Same here. And I’m getting that feeling from lots of folks so I still think it’s a good chapter — even if we’re not going to do, knowing a bit about what’s going out there is fun and important. What’s your vote - nix the chapter or keep it?
Absolutely a plus
I’m fascinated by the idea of using a black light. My most memorable experience was seeing literally hundreds of spiders in the grass when a regular flashlight beam hit at an angle so there was a reflection formed. Initially I thought it was silica but on closer inspection saw that it moved! I will have to look into getting a small black light!