'Science has not been kind to moon gardening, but feeling part of a centuries-old gardening tradition is rewarding'

The popular Continental concept of gardening by the cycles of the moon is gaining traction in Britain.

Full glowy moon over a field of cosmos flowers
(Image credit: Shutterstock)

At the check-out of most garden centres in France and Italy, alongside the chocolate bars and cheap trinkets, are piles of almanacs. These are not the almanacs we are familiar with in Britain that claim to predict the winner of the Grand National or offer relationship advice based on your astrological sign. The almanacs that French and Italian gardeners buy give a detailed schedule of the phases of the moon each day of the year, with advice on the work to do that day in the garden.

In many parts of Europe, gardening is guided by the lunar cycle. Often called moon gardening or lunar gardening, it is a traditional practice followed by generations of gardeners. Here in Britain, it has usually been seen as a preserve of eccentrics. Recently, however, a new generation of our gardeners, many seeking a stronger link to the natural world, has become interested in moon gardening.

The principle belief of the system is that the moon’s gravitational pull affects all water on Earth, not only tides, but also the water within the soil and the sap in plants and that the changing strength in moonlight affects plant growth.

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Field of blue and yellow wild-looking flowers with a line of trees in the background and bleached sky

Home Farm (above and below) is part of the Heckfield Estate, which sits on more 400-acres of land in Hampshire, England, and comprises a biodynamic market garden (planting, harvesting, and pruning are often scheduled according to an astronomical calendar) and organic farm

(Image credit: Heckfield Place)

Black and white pig rootling through the ground in a woodland

(Image credit: Heckfield Place)

The practice can be broken down to a simple rule of thumb: a waxing moon, when energy and sap are rising, is the time to sow, transplant and take cuttings of leafy and fruiting plants that grow above the ground; whereas a waning moon, when the sap is low, favours root crops, bulb planting and pruning. The period between the last quarter of a moon through to a new moon is considered to be a dormant period when no planting or sowing should happen. This is, however, a propitious time for pruning and for harvesting crops such as potatoes, apples and squash that will be stored through the winter. Within these broad principles, there are specific days when particular tasks are either proscribed or encouraged.

A lot of my vegetable-gardening know-how was acquired from a French neighbour, whose beautifully planted and astonishingly productive potager I tried to emulate. Whenever Madame Boyer sowed, transplanted, pruned or harvested, so, more or less, did I. All her life (she continued to garden until the age of 99), her work was guided by the cycles of the moon. She had no need to follow an almanac, but observed the state of the moon and understood, from knowledge learned from her parents and grandparents.

'Science has not been kind to this practice'

Like, I suspect, most gardeners, I am far too busy (and ill disciplined) to follow such a rigid timetable. Jobs get done when I have the time and when the weather is clement, which may explain why my vegetable garden was never, nor ever will be, as magnificent as Boyer’s. Each year, we both cut hazel wands ready for the job of supporting beans and staking dahlias. One spring, hers were stout and strong, mine were weak and fragile. Her explanation was that I had cut the hazel at the wrong time: do it when the moon is low and there will be no sap in the poles to attract insects that will munch through the wood. I do not know if that is the explanation for the failure, but, ever since, I check the moon before coppicing hazel that I want to use in the garden. Just in case.

Science has not been kind to this practice and there is no robust, repeatable study or body of evidence proving that following the rules of lunar planting reliably changes yield, taste or plant health. The moon does, of course, influence large bodies of water, but, researchers argue, those forces are too weak at the scale of soil moisture and plant cells to explain the claimed gardening outcomes in a consistent, reproducible way.

Trying to calculate the material advantages of moon gardening is perhaps, however, missing the point. For many gardeners who garden following the cycles of the moon, the benefits are not measurable in increased yields or sturdier plants. Feeling part of a centuries-old gardening tradition that provides a rhythm to the year and requires careful observation of the world around is, in itself, rewarding. Even the most sceptical of us can appreciate that, in an increasingly alienating world, anything that helps us appreciate the joys of the changing seasons and the pleasures of the natural world is welcome.


This feature originally appeared in the April 29, 2026, issue of Country Life. Click here for more information on how to subscribe.

A former nurseryman and garden designer, John Hoyland is gardens adviser at Glyndebourne, East Sussex, and at Le Jardin du Bâtiment, France. He spends most of his time tackling his garden in the eastern Pyrénées region of France.