The Problem Isn’t the Petunias – It’s the Panic

Debunking the idea that your flower choices need to be fashionable.

There’s a peculiar genre of garden journalism that always seems to arrive in my news feed just when I’m feeling proud of my flower beds. You know the ones. The articles with dramatic headlines like:
“7 Annuals That Are Outdated (and What to Plant Instead)”
“Your Roses Are Aging Your Property.”
“Are Granny Flowers Making a Comeback?”

These pieces arrive with a tone of breathless urgency, as though planting snapdragons might ruin your reputation or invite the neighbors to file a report.

At first, we assumed they were meant to be tongue-in-cheek—a lighthearted take on seasonal trends. But the tone is often more serious than playful. They read like garden warnings, delivered with the intensity of a public health announcement. Suddenly, impatiens are passé, cosmos are uninspired, and roses—once the very symbol of beauty and care—are accused of dragging down curb appeal like a sagging fence or peeling paint.

It’s all a bit much. And it raises the question: When did gardening become a popularity contest?

The Rise of Garden Trend Anxiety

There’s nothing wrong with trends in gardening as they can be exciting. New plant introductions, evolving design principles, ecological awareness—these are all part of what keeps horticulture vibrant. But it seems lately, some messaging has shifted from encouraging exploration to subtly enforcing a sense of aesthetic correctness.

These articles don’t just celebrate what’s new. They often diminish what’s familiar. The language implies that if you’re planting certain flowers—especially those you’ve seen in older gardens or grew up with—you’re doing it wrong. And while that tone can be easy to brush off if you’ve been gardening for years, it can land differently for those who are just starting out.

What This Messaging Does to New Gardeners

This is where the damage often happens—not to the plants, but to the people trying to learn how to grow them. New gardeners come to this pursuit with curiosity, hope, and often, a healthy amount of uncertainty. They’re learning how much sun is “full sun,” how often to water, and what perennials will survive their particular patch of clay or deer-infested hillside.

When someone who’s just getting started reads that petunias are “tired,” or that the cheerful marigolds they picked out are dated, it doesn’t encourage them to explore new ideas—it discourages them from trusting their own. It creates hesitation. Doubt. The quiet, persistent thought that maybe gardening isn’t for them after all, or that there are too many rules to do it “right.”

That hesitation can be enough to stop someone from planting again next season. Which is a real loss—not just for the gardener, but for the pollinators, the soil, the neighborhood, and the larger gardening community that desperately needs more people in it.

Instead of nurturing confidence and creativity, trend-focused messaging can unintentionally gatekeep a world that should feel welcoming and abundant.

The truth is: there are no wrong flowers for someone who’s learning. The “easy” plants—the so-called outdated ones—are easy for a reason. They’re forgiving. Resilient. They give new gardeners their first taste of success, which often leads to a lifelong relationship with gardening. Taking those plants off the table for the sake of aesthetics is short-sighted at best.

On “Granny Flowers” and Memory

Take a closer look at the plants often labeled as old-fashioned: foxgloves, delphiniums, phlox, lilacs, hollyhocks and sometimes even peonies. These are not just nostalgic—they’re deeply rooted in memory and experience. Many of us associate these plants with the first gardens we ever saw or loved. They remind us of grandparents, childhood homes, places we once visited and never forgot.

These aren’t relics. They’re classics. Reliable, time-tested plants that bring beauty and meaning. To call them “granny flowers” with a dismissive tone is to ignore their emotional significance—and to underestimate the power of continuity in a garden.

And if they are making a “comeback,” as some of these articles claim, it’s not because they ever truly disappeared. It’s because gardeners are choosing to honor what works, what connects, and what endures.

When Did Roses Become a Liability?

Perhaps the most puzzling claim of all is that roses are “aging” a property. It’s unclear what that even means. Are we meant to imagine a homeowner dragging their property value down one hybrid tea at a time?

Roses are not easy plants. They require care—real care. Pruning, feeding, monitoring for pests and disease. They don’t reward indifference. But when they do bloom, they do so spectacularly, often for weeks or even months. They are a symbol of effort, patience, and beauty.

To suggest that they are somehow a negative in the landscape is not only misguided, it’s discouraging to those who’ve invested their time in growing them. It dismisses years of tending, learning, and adapting.

A rose bush in full bloom doesn’t age your property. It shows that someone has been there, loving the space long enough to make something extraordinary happen.

A Better Way to Talk About Gardens

There’s nothing wrong with highlighting new plants or exciting innovations in garden design. But that conversation can coexist with respect for the tried and true. We don’t need to pit old against new, or imply that gardeners who choose familiar flowers are behind the times.

Gardens are not fashion runways. They are living spaces—deeply personal, full of memory and change. No two gardens are the same. They reflect who we are, where we are, and what we care about. That kind of individuality shouldn’t be replaced by a rotating list of what’s “in” and what’s “out.”

Especially not for those just starting out. New gardeners need encouragement, not editing. They need to know that it’s okay to make mistakes (and they will), to grow what they love, and to let their garden evolve over time—because that’s exactly what gardening is. Growth. In every sense of the word.

The Takeaway

If you’re planting petunias because they bring you joy—keep planting them. If you love the idea of a rose-covered arbor, grow it. If your grandmother grew foxgloves and you want to see them again in your own yard, that is a legacy worth carrying forward.

The problem isn’t the petunias.
It’s the panic that tells us our gardens must follow a trend to be valuable.

So ignore the noise. Plant what you love. Learn as you go. And if someone says your garden is a little old-fashioned, point to that red geranium in that terracotta pot, smile and say:
“That’s the point.”