The Witching Hour

Your Garden at Night

Welcome to my garden at night.

Jasmine climbs up the wall of the chicken run, the tiny white flowers giving off its immediately recognisable scent, little white stars mimic the enormous but ever so far away ones up in the dark canopy above us. Nicotiana wafts in the breeze attracting my attention, the lime green flowers pool at my feet as I pass the water butts on my way to the greenhouse, the smell is heavy, and intoxicating and I watch as a moth bumps against the petals. In the greenhouse I glare at the label marked ‘evening primrose’ that is stuck into a barren tray of compost. They haven’t germinated, they are notoriously known for not wanting to be grown in precise conditions, preferring instead to be sown direct in poor soil and left alone to do their thing (quite difficult in my richly fertilised allotment) in other people’s gardens I have loved watching their bright yellow flowers open as the cool air hits them. Lastly, I head down to the compost bins, and delight as my skirt brushes against the night scented stocks… the most fragrant of them all, and integral to the night-time ritual I have planned this evening.

An entirely different world exists to those who have a night garden, a space where the usual flowers bloom but are intermingled with those who prefer the cool, the dark, the mystery of the witching hour. Favouring nocturnal blooms opens up an entirely different kind of magick, of ritual and of witchcraft that we can use on our magickal journeys. As well as sharing insights and growing tips, I would also love to talk about our British night time pollinators that rely on these kinds of flora, and why you can help make a difference to their dwindling numbers…