Color in the garden is nice as long as we can see it. There is not so much to see after the sun goes down. That is why some gardens that get used at night are illuminated.
Sometimes it is important to illuminate walkways, driveways and stairways for safety, even if exhibiting the landscape is not important. For such applications, the quality of the light is not as important. Sodium vapor light that works so well for street lamps can make plants look rather sickly. Mercury vapor lamps can make them seem rather pale and bland. Modern LED lamps just look creepy.
So, what happens when foliage that already looks sickly get illuminated by light that enhances the sickly appearance? Well, like many styles of contemporary art, it is a matter of taste . . . or perception . . . or some other big word that a horticulturist neither knows the meaning of, nor has any business using in a sentence.
Golden honeylocusts, as they mature, are not really sufficiently golden to be as pretty as they might look in gardening magazines. Young specimens look good with contrasting purple leaf plums, particularly where warm weather enhances the yellow color. By the time they grow into nice shade trees, and growth is not quite as vigorous as it used to be, the foliage is just rather light yellowish green. They are still very pretty trees, with lacy foliage and light shade that lawn or other plants can grow under. They are just neither here nor there; not bright yellow enough to be flashy, but not green enough to look lush. By that time, their only advantages are that they cast a lighter shade and stay somewhat smaller than those with richer green foliage.
Then the sun goes down. Honeylocusts with richer green foliage are just as bland as any other tree obscured by darkness. If illuminated, they might show off handsome trunks and branch structure, outfitted with distinguished furrowed bark, but not much more.
This is where the golden honeylocust shines. The paleness of the foliage, enhanced by efficient but aesthetically insensitive light, contrasts with the darkness. It can look spooky. It can look striking. It can look ethereal. I would not know, since I do not even know what that last word means. Regardless, these golden honeylocusts illuminated by common streetlamps in a parking lot at a strip mall really look sharp. It is doubtful that whomever designed the landscape planned it like this. It is just as doubtful than any reputable designer would ever recommend planting a specific cultivar of a long term tree to exploit bad lighting that could change as soon as something more efficient becomes available, but it happens to work in this particular application.
Speaking of which, this is not the right location!
Halston, with the help of several friends, could make a nice pill box hat. That is the origin of the name; from pill box hate fame. This might help clarify, 
My weekly gardening column does not have much space for everything that should be said about the various topics and featured specie. I just try to fit the most basic of information into the space available, but usually would like to fit more in.
We can keep this more brief than that long title.
Staghorn ferns are epiphytes. They cling to tree trunks, rocks or whatever they happen to grab onto. They can root into decayed wood if it is porous enough, but they are satisfied to just cling to the exterior. They do not need soil. They sort of make their own soil by collecting debris that falls from the canopies of trees above. In the jungles where they live, they get all the water they need from rain. They often live in the crotches of branches because that is where they happen to land. (The epiphyte I wrote about earlier was just a palm that landed in the wrong place, but is not really an epiphyte. 
Foliar tapestries are impressive in the right situation. 
