My Husband Is a Professional Gardener – and He’d Never Let Me Buy These 6 Popular Plants

I’m a strong, independent woman. I kept my own surname, for heaven’s sake. But if there’s one place I begrudgingly defer to my husband, it’s the garden, which is deeply annoying, because I write about gardening for a living. I know my alliums from my asters. I can hold forth on pollinators, peat-free compost, and why everyone suddenly wants a prairie border.

But my husband? Well, he's a professional gardener. He’s been one for over two decades, in fact. And however much it pains me to admit it, the man really does know his stuff.

Unfortunately, this means there are certain popular plants I will apparently never be allowed to grow unless I start sneaking them home from the garden center and hiding them in a secret rebellious container garden somewhere behind the shed.

Latest Videos From

The Popular Plants That Professional Gardeners Dislike

Now, while I absolutely could start my own secret garden of banned plants, I won’t. Because the really irritating thing is that his reasons for steering clear of these popular plants? Well, they're usually grounded in very sound logic.

Without any further ado, then...

1. Hybrid roses

I know the real reason my husband hates hybrid roses is because he thinks they make a garden look like “a retired colonel’s front yard in 1997,” but apparently there’s more to it than that.

Every single time I get excited over a big, blousy hybrid tea rose at the garden center, he reminds me that many heavily bred double-flowered roses are far less useful for pollinators. Their densely packed petals make it difficult – sometimes impossible – for bees and other insects to access nectar and pollen properly.

Instead, he keeps trying to steer me toward tougher, more wildlife-friendly roses like Rosa rugosa, which he insists smell better, feed pollinators properly, and don’t require “constant emotional support.”

Which, fine. Annoyingly reasonable.

Buy Rosa Rugosa:

2. Hostas

This is perhaps the cruellest one because my husband actually loves hostas. Loves them. The lush leaves! The shade tolerance! The texture!

Unfortunately, he hates slugs and snails even more, and to him, planting hostas is essentially like laying out an all-you-can-eat buffet for every mollusc within a five-mile radius.

To be honest, he has a point here; I have seen hostas reduced to lacework overnight. Thank goodness I can rely on ferns to give me that vibrant green effect instead, right? The Lady in Red Fern from Nature Hills is a great option that looks as good to us as it does grossly unappealing to slugs.

3. Annuals

My husband hates bedding plants with the kind of passion most people reserve for their most toxic exes or delayed flights.

These trays of brightly colored annuals are usually destined for containers and borders, but they end dramatically a few months later. And, according to him, constantly replacing seasonal bedding is resource-heavy, wasteful, thirsty, and often reliant on plastic trays, intensive watering, and peat-based composts.

Personally, I think a big overflowing planter of petunias is joyful, but c'est la vie. At least we get to plant coneflowers and other perennials in abundance instead.

4. Tulips

I think tulips are cheerful blooms that make spring feel properly celebratory. My husband, though,. regards them with wary vigilance due to tulip fire – a fungal disease that causes distorted growth and brown spotting.

As if he hadn't made his point with that, he also has let slip that tulips are “too much effort for something that disappears in five minutes” and maintains that most modern tulip displays are effectively treated like annuals anyway, requiring constant lifting, replacing, and replanting to keep them looking good year after year.

Naturally, this is very tedious information to hear when you are holding an armful of beautiful tulip bulbs. Thank goodness there are so many unusual spring bulbs I can use as alternatives, I suppose.

5. Passionflower

Honestly, I adore passionflowers. Our neighbor has one scrambling gloriously across a fence, and I stare at its bizarre, alien-looking blooms, with such envy, as I would love one of my own.

Too bad for me, then, that my husband looks at them the way medieval villagers probably looked at advancing plague ships. (He’s very into medieval history at the moment. Apparently men reach a certain age where they suddenly develop strong opinions on knights and siege weapons. I hear a lot about trebuchets now.)

To be fair, Passiflora can spread aggressively in warmer climates and has a habit of swallowing fences, trellises, and nearby shrubs if left unchecked. I have consoled myself with jasmine as an alternative.

Shop Less Aggressive Vines and Creepers:

6. White Willow

There is a willow tree bordering our garden that I personally think looks quite beautiful and romantic when it does its thing in the breeze.

As ever, my husband absolutely despises it. Not because of the tree itself, you understand, but because for approximately three weeks every year it erupts into masses of cottony white seeds that drift absolutely everywhere – across the lawn, into borders, through open windows, and, I strongly suspect, directly into my husband’s bloodstream judging by the intensity of his reaction to it.

Personally, I think it looks magical. Apparently, though, female Salix trees are notorious for producing huge amounts of fluffy windborne seed after flowering, which can self-seed enthusiastically and generally make a nuisance of themselves.

Which is fascinating information I would perhaps have enjoyed after I’d admired the tree in peace.

A Few Alternatives:

The truly maddening thing is that my husband is usually right. The pollinators probably do prefer simpler roses. The slugs probably would demolish hostas. And yes, somewhere deep down, I know planting a vigorous passionflower vine beside a fence is the sort of decision that eventually ends with one person saying, “I told you so.”

Still. One day, when he’s distracted reading about medieval siege warfare, I may yet sneak home a forbidden plant or two. Wish me luck!