Water gardens and moon gardens bring paradise into full focus and fruition.
There’s likely never been a culture on Earth that hasn’t paid homage to the moon or understood her (and rarely “his”) phases as essential to the welfare of crops, trees, flowers, and human and animal fates or behavior. Activities throughout history worldwide — from cutting hair to cutting vegetables — are influenced by the moon’s phases. Old Farmer’s Almanacs, which give careful moon-planting instructions, make intriguing winter reading. I wonder if they still exist, if not in print, then online.
Even the most pragmatic and scientific of us knows that the full moon causes strange events. Medical professionals on emergency duty steel themselves for additional disasters, especially violent altercations, on the full moon. It’s said that more births occur on the full moon. Mine did. Indeed, a friend is expecting her new daughter this very night.
Just as the moon was responsible for birth, she devoured the dead. Or she welcomed the dead as the vessel that contained departed souls. In the prepatriarchal age, the goddess of the moon, Joseph Campbell wrote, “was herself the mythic garden, wherein Death and Life — the two Queens — were one.”
She has infinite names as the primoridal Great Mother, whose rhythms determine the pulse of plants and the ebb and flow of women’s bodies. Even in the Christian era, the Virgin Mary is associated with the moon.
As the wind delivers our dreams, the moon has dominion over them, determining their content.