I once had a garden containing only white plants. It was small, about 8 feet in diameter. It contained a small pure white azalea, spiky white campanula, white old-fashioned impatiens, (not the new guinea type), and a green ground cover with white flowers, called lamium. There was an old stump in the middle of the garden that stood about 2 or 3 feet tall, and the garden was circular, under some tall oaks. It didn’t get a whole lot of sun. In the spring every year came the only color: a mass of tulips, sometimes apricot beauties, sometimes dark purple ones, gathered in the middle. It was low maintenance because of the shade; not much weeding was needed.
The garden was an easy joy for me; a joy that you don’t have to work hard for. People used to ask me about it, curious as to why I would choose only white in the garden for most of the season. I told them it was relaxing for me to look upon only white. Relaxing and enthralling at the same time. When I moved I lost that garden, but am contemplating creating another one.
White provides brightness and contrast, and makes other colors in front of it stand out. Wouldn’t an all-white garden have a pure, starry quality, and glow in the moonlight? White can be vibrant and also relaxing. We don’t want to stop looking at our gardens just because it has gotten dark outside. Twilight in a white garden would be intriguing and mysterious. I am studying how to create a moonlight garden, and have filtered my white plant favorites down to five white plants that not only would glow, but that also would not ask too much of me. These each have other features to recommend them as well, mainly fragrance: