April 1, 2025

The Bloom Central flower delivery of the month for April in Avon is the Beyond Blue Bouquet

The Beyond Blue Bouquet from Bloom Central is the perfect floral arrangement to brighten up any room in your home. This bouquet features a stunning combination of lilies, roses and statice, creating a soothing and calming vibe.

The soft pastel colors of the Beyond Blue Bouquet make it versatile for any occasion - whether you want to celebrate a birthday or just show someone that you care. Its peaceful aura also makes it an ideal gift for those going through tough times or needing some emotional support.

What sets this arrangement apart is not only its beauty but also its longevity. The flowers are hand-selected with great care so they last longer than average bouquets. You can enjoy their vibrant colors and sweet fragrance for days on end!

One thing worth mentioning about the Beyond Blue Bouquet is how easy it is to maintain. All you need to do is trim the stems every few days and change out the water regularly to ensure maximum freshness.

If you're searching for something special yet affordable, look no further than this lovely floral creation from Bloom Central! Not only will it bring joy into your own life, but it's also sure to put a smile on anyone else's face.

So go ahead and treat yourself or surprise someone dear with the delightful Beyond Blue Bouquet today! With its simplicity, elegance, long-lasting blooms, and effortless maintenance - what more could one ask for?

Amaranthus does not behave like other flowers. It does not sit politely in a vase, standing upright, nodding gently in the direction of the other blooms. It spills. It drapes. It cascades downward in long, trailing tendrils that look more like something from a dream than something you can actually buy from a florist. It refuses to stay contained, which is exactly why it makes an arrangement feel alive.

There are two main types, though “types” doesn’t really do justice to how completely different they look. There’s the upright kind, with tall, tapering spikes that look like velvet-coated wands reaching toward the sky, adding height and texture and this weirdly ancient, almost prehistoric energy to a bouquet. And then there’s the trailing kind, the showstopper, the one that flows downward in thick ropes, soft and heavy, like some extravagant, botanical waterfall. Both versions have a weight to them, a physical presence that makes the usual rules of flower arranging feel irrelevant.

And the color. Deep, rich, impossible-to-ignore shades of burgundy, magenta, crimson, chartreuse. They look saturated, velvety, intense, like something out of an old oil painting, the kind where fruit and flowers are arranged on a wooden table with dramatic lighting and tiny beads of condensation on the grapes. Stick Amaranthus in a bouquet, and suddenly it feels more expensive, more opulent, more like it should be displayed in a room with high ceilings and heavy curtains and a kind of hushed reverence.

But what really makes Amaranthus unique is movement. Arrangements are usually about balance, about placing each stem at just the right angle to create a structured, harmonious composition. Amaranthus doesn’t care about any of that. It moves. It droops. It reaches out past the edge of the vase and pulls everything around it into a kind of organic, unplanned-looking beauty. A bouquet without Amaranthus can feel static, frozen, too aware of its own perfection. Add those long, trailing ropes, and suddenly there’s drama. There’s tension. There’s this gorgeous contrast between what is contained and what refuses to be.

And it lasts. Long after more delicate flowers have wilted, after the petals have started falling and the leaves have lost their luster, Amaranthus holds on. It dries beautifully, keeping its shape and color for weeks, sometimes months, as if it has decided that decay is simply not an option. Which makes sense, considering its name literally means “unfading” in Greek.

Amaranthus is not for the timid. It does not blend in, does not behave, does not sit quietly in the background. It transforms an arrangement, giving it depth, movement, and this strange, undeniable sense of history, like it belongs to another era but somehow ended up here. Once you start using it, once you see what it does to a bouquet, how it changes the whole mood of a space, you will not go back. Some flowers are beautiful. Amaranthus is unforgettable.

Are looking for a Avon florist because you are not local to the area? If so, here is a brief travelogue of what Avon has to offer. Who knows, perhaps you'll be intrigued enough to come visit soon, partake in some of the fun activities Avon has to offer and deliver flowers to your loved one in person!

Avon sits cradled in the Eagle River Valley like a well-kept secret, its streets humming with the quiet confidence of a place that knows exactly what it is. The sun crests the Gore Range each morning and spills light over the town’s low-slung roofs, their angles sharp against the soft enormity of the Rockies. Locals move with the rhythm of mountain time, boots laced by dawn, dogs leashed for trails that wind upward into stands of aspen, their leaves trembling in the thin air. You notice, first, the absence of pretense. This is not a town that shouts. It whispers through the rustle of pine needles, the crunch of gravel under bike tires, the distant laughter of kids cannonballing into the community pool.

To visit Avon is to step into a Venn diagram where wilderness and civilization overlap just enough to make both seem better. The Eagle River threads through the heart of town, its currents swift and clear, carving paths through stone as if to remind everyone that patience plus persistence equals something like permanence. Cyclists coast along its banks, nodding to fly fishermen knee-deep in riffles, their lines flicking back and forth in arcs that catch the light. Up at Beaver Creek, a mile’s jaunt south, ski lifts yawn into motion each winter, ferrying visitors toward powder so pristine it feels less like frozen water than a kind of suspended glitter. But Avon itself remains grounded, unburdened by the glamour of its neighbors. It’s the sort of place where you can order a breakfast burrito next to a Olympian and neither of you will mention the altitude.

Same day service available. Order your Avon floral delivery and surprise someone today!

Community here isn’t an abstract concept. It’s the woman at the farmers’ market who remembers your name after one visit, handing over a jar of raw honey with a smile that suggests she’s in on a joke the rest of the world hasn’t heard yet. It’s the volunteer trail crews that materialize each spring, sleeves rolled up, to clear debris from paths named things like “Berrypicker” and “Larkspur,” their labor a silent pact between people and land. Even the architecture seems to collaborate with the environment, buildings lean into solar angles, rooftops bristle with panels, and storm runoff feeds into gardens that bloom in explosions of columbine and lupine. Sustainability here isn’t a buzzword. It’s a reflex.

What’s easy to miss, amid all this natural splendor, is how Avon thrums with a low-key cosmopolitanism. The cultural calendar overflows with open-air concerts, tae kwon do exhibitions, storytelling nights where retirees and fifth graders share microphones under strings of Edison bulbs. The library hosts robotics workshops; the park pavilion turns into a yoga studio at sunrise. You get the sense that everyone is quietly, determinedly busy, not in the grinding urban way, but in the manner of people who’ve decided that life is best lived as a series of enthusiasms.

Economically, the town operates like a finely tuned gear in the Vail Valley’s machinery. Lift operators, teachers, chefs, and entrepreneurs coexist in a ecosystem where small businesses, the bike shop doubling as a repair clinic, the family-owned deli slinging elk sandwiches, anchor the sidewalks. There’s money here, sure, but it doesn’t flaunt. Wealth manifests as well-maintained trails, free summer concerts, scholarships for local teens. The vibe is less “resort town” than “village that accidentally discovered it’s excellent at hosting the world.”

Predictions about Avon’s future tend to circle back to growth, but growth here feels intentional, almost respectful. New developments cluster near transit hubs, their designs echoing the earth tones of the cliffs above. The mayor talks about affordable housing and carbon neutrality without a trace of irony. Kids still race their bikes down Nottingham Road, and at night, when the stars emerge with a clarity that city folk would find hallucinatory, the mountains loom as they always have, steady, immense, unimpressed by whatever humanity tacked on below.

Stand in the right spot, say, on the overlook at Harry A. Nottingham Park, and you can see it all: the pocket of civilization holding its own against the wild, the delicate balance of a town that’s mastered the art of staying small in the best way. Avon doesn’t need to be majestic. It has the Rockies for that.