WHY MODERN FLOWER EXPECTATIONS FEEL DISCONNECTED FROM NATURE

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There was a time when flowers were inseparable from place.

Not because of ideology, but because of reality. Flowers are perishable. Before modern refrigeration and air freight, they had to be grown close to the people who bought them. What bloomed locally defined what was available. Spring looked like spring. Fall looked like fall.

Photography: Piccadilly Posh Photography

For much of the twentieth century, most cut flowers sold in the United States were grown domestically, often on farms located just outside cities. Seasonality wasn’t a concept that needed explaining. It was simply how flowers worked.

That began to change in the second half of the century.

By the 1960s and 1970s, advances in refrigeration, cargo aviation, and cold-chain logistics made it possible for cut flowers to travel long distances without immediate loss of quality. At the same time, global trade agreements and shifting agricultural priorities began to favor large-scale production in regions with predictable climates and lower labor costs.

Flowers were uniquely positioned to take advantage of this shift.

Because cut flowers don’t include soil or roots, they move across borders with fewer restrictions than many other agricultural products. They are not consumed, which places them outside many food safety regulations. As a result, they became one of the easiest crops to globalize.

By the 1990s, imported flowers had overtaken domestic production in the U.S. market. Today, roughly 80 percent of cut flowers sold in the United States are grown abroad, primarily in countries with year-round growing conditions and highly centralized production systems.

This shift didn’t happen because people stopped valuing local farms. It happened because the system rewarded consistency, volume, and year-round availability.

Over time, this reshaped expectations.

What was once fleeting became reliable. What was once seasonal became standard. Flowers were no longer tied to weather, geography, or time. They were tied to supply chains.

A bouquet in January began to look much like one in June. Wedding palettes became fixed regardless of season. Inspiration images circulated without context, presenting flowers as interchangeable design elements rather than agricultural products.

This is not because people are demanding too much.

It’s because the industry trained them to expect it.

None of this unfolded overnight, and none of it is inherently malicious. Globalization made flowers more widely available. Prices stabilized. Choice expanded. For many consumers, flowers became easier to access than ever before.

But something was lost along the way.

When flowers are removed from season and place, they stop telling the story of where and when they were grown. Their connection to land, labor, and climate fades into the background. They become decorative objects rather than living crops with limits.

Understanding how this system developed is not about assigning blame.

It’s about orientation.

Because once you see how flowers came to be available everywhere, all the time, it becomes easier to understand why choosing seasonal and locally grown flowers can feel unfamiliar. Even inconvenient.

And why, when flowers are allowed to exist within their natural rhythms again, they often feel different.

Not better.

Not worse.

Just honest.