June 1, 2025

The Bloom Central flower delivery of the month for June in Paris is the Be Bold Bouquet by Better Homes and Gardens

Introducing the Be Bold Bouquet by Better Homes and Gardens floral arrangement! Blooming with bright colors to boldly express your every emotion, this exquisite flower bouquet is set to celebrate. Hot pink roses, purple Peruvian Lilies, lavender mini carnations, green hypericum berries, lily grass blades, and lush greens are brought together to create an incredible flower arrangement.

The flowers are artfully arranged in a clear glass cube vase, allowing their natural beauty to shine through. The lucky recipient will feel like you have just picked the flowers yourself from a beautiful garden!

Whether you're celebrating an anniversary, sending get well wishes or simply saying 'I love you', the Be Bold Bouquet is always appropriate. This floral selection has timeless appeal and will be cherished by anyone who is lucky enough to receive it.

Better Homes and Gardens has truly outdone themselves with this incredible creation. Their attention to detail shines through in every petal and leaf - creating an arrangement that not only looks stunning but also feels incredibly luxurious.

If you're looking for a captivating floral arrangement that brings joy wherever it goes, the Be Bold Bouquet by Better Homes and Gardens is the perfect choice. The stunning colors, long-lasting blooms, delightful fragrance and affordable price make it a true winner in every way. Get ready to add a touch of boldness and beauty to someone's life - you won't regret it!

Celosias look like something that shouldn’t exist in nature. Like a botanist with an overactive imagination sketched them out in a fever dream and then somehow willed them into reality. They are brain-like, coral-like, fire-like ... velvet turned into a flower. And when you see them in an arrangement, they do not sit quietly in the background, blending in, behaving. They command attention. They change the whole energy of the thing.

This is because Celosias, unlike so many other flowers that are content to be soft and wispy and romantic, are structured. They have presence. The cockscomb variety—the one that looks like a brain, a perfectly sculpted ruffle—stands there like a tiny sculpture, refusing to be ignored. The plume variety, all feathery and flame-like, adds height, drama, movement. And the wheat variety, long and slender and texturally complex, somehow manages to be both wild and elegant at the same time.

But it’s not just the shape that makes them unique. It’s the texture. You touch a Celosia, and it doesn’t feel like a flower. It feels like fabric, like velvet, like something you want to run your fingers over again just to confirm that yes, it really does feel that way. In an arrangement, this does something interesting. Flowers tend to be either soft and delicate or crisp and structured. Celosias are both. They create contrast. They add depth. They make the whole thing feel richer, more layered, more intentional.

And then, of course, there’s the color. Celosias do not come in polite pastels. They are not interested in subtlety. They show up in neon pinks, electric oranges, deep magentas, fire-engine reds. They look saturated, like someone turned the volume all the way up. And when you put them next to something lighter, something airier—Queen Anne’s lace, maybe, or dusty miller, or even a simple white rose—they create this insane vibrancy, this play of light and dark, bold and soft, grounded and ethereal.

Another thing about Celosias: they last. A lot of flowers have a short vase life, a few days of glory before they start wilting, fading, giving in. Not Celosias. They hold their shape, their color, their texture, as if refusing to acknowledge the whole concept of decay. Even when they dry out, they don’t wither into something sad and brittle. They stay beautiful, just in a different way.

If you’re someone who likes their flower arrangements to look traditional, predictable, classic, Celosias might be too much. They bring an energy, an intensity, a kind of visual electricity that doesn’t always play by the usual rules. But if you like contrast, if you like texture, if you want to build something that makes people stop and look twice, Celosias are exactly what you need. They are flowers that refuse to disappear into the background. They are, quite simply, unforgettable.

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

Paris, Illinois, sits in the eastern central part of the state like a quiet punchline to a joke no one remembers telling. The town shares a name with a European capital synonymous with romance and light, but this Paris, population 8,291, per the last census, insists on being its own kind of poem. The courthouse square anchors it, a red-bricked, white-columned monument to civic patience. Farmers in seed caps sip coffee at the Sunrise Family Restaurant, discussing rainfall and soybean futures. Retirees shuffle into the Edgar County Public Library, where the air smells of paper and the librarians know patrons by the spines of the books they borrow. The streets here do not curve with the Seine’s languid grace but instead grid themselves into Midwestern practicality, as if laid out by someone who believed straight lines could ward off chaos.

What Paris lacks in boulevards it compensates with a density of human detail. Walk Main Street at noon and notice the way the sunlight angles over the marquee of the Twin Kiss Drive-In, a relic of 1950s optimism still serving root beer floats to teenagers with skateboards. The Paris Pharmacy, its neon sign buzzing faintly, stocks aspirin and gossip in equal measure. At the post office, a clerk leans over the counter to ask about a customer’s aunt’s hip surgery. These transactions are not small. They accumulate. They become the mortar between the bricks.

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

The town’s soul reveals itself in paradoxes. The Paris High School mascot is a tiger, a creature no one here has seen outside textbooks, yet on Friday nights, when the football field lights hum to life, the entire town seems to roar. The players’ helmets gleam under the stars. Cheerleaders chant routines older than their grandparents. Parents huddle under blankets, their breath visible in the cold, shouting names into the dark: Go, Dylan! Go, Jess! The urgency feels both ancient and immediate, as if victory here might somehow recalibrate the universe.

Seasons dictate rhythms. Spring arrives with the Edgar County Fair, a carnival of tractor pulls and pie contests where the air smells of fried dough and children sprint between livestock pens. Summer turns the public pool into a nexus of cannonballs and laughter. Autumn paints the oaks along Elm Street in hues that defy Crayola’s vocabulary. Winter brings a hush, snow muffling the streets until the town resembles a snow globe someone forgot to shake. Through it all, the clock tower on the courthouse ticks, its face lit like a second moon.

History here is not a museum but a neighbor. The 1901 Carnegie Library still stands, its limestone walls housing stories within stories. The old train depot, though dormant, whispers of an era when steam engines linked this Paris to Chicagos and St. Louises. Veterans’ names etched on memorial plaques multiply with each generation, their sacrifices folded into the soil. Yet the present persists. A new mural on a downtown building depicts a phoenix rising, painted by high school students, its colors bold enough to make you forget the word irony.

To dismiss Paris as “just another small town” is to miss the point. Its gravity lies in the way it refuses to exoticize itself. No one here pretends to be France. The beauty is in the unapidified trust that a place can matter simply because the people in it decide, daily, to care. You notice it in the way a man waves at every passing car, whether he recognizes the driver or not. In the way the diner cashier rounds down your bill “just because.” In the way the sunset gilds the fields beyond town, turning the endless Illinois corn into something like a promise.

Paris, Illinois, does not dazzle. It endures. It thrives in the minor key. And if you stand on its square at twilight, watching the courthouse windows catch the last light, you might feel it, the faint, persistent pulse of a hundred ordinary lives insisting they are not ordinary at all.