April 1, 2025

The Bloom Central flower delivery of the month for April in Kittery is the Light and Lovely Bouquet

Introducing the Light and Lovely Bouquet, a floral arrangement that will brighten up any space with its delicate beauty. This charming bouquet, available at Bloom Central, exudes a sense of freshness and joy that will make you smile from ear to ear.

The Light and Lovely Bouquet features an enchanting combination of yellow daisies, orange Peruvian Lilies, lavender matsumoto asters, orange carnations and red mini carnations. These lovely blooms are carefully arranged in a clear glass vase with a touch of greenery for added elegance.

This delightful floral bouquet is perfect for all occasions be it welcoming a new baby into the world or expressing heartfelt gratitude to someone special. The simplicity and pops of color make this arrangement suitable for anyone who appreciates beauty in its purest form.

What is truly remarkable about the Light and Lovely Bouquet is how effortlessly it brings warmth into any room. It adds just the right amount of charm without overwhelming the senses.

The Light and Lovely Bouquet also comes arranged beautifully in a clear glass vase tied with a lime green ribbon at the neck - making it an ideal gift option when you want to convey your love or appreciation.

Another wonderful aspect worth mentioning is how long-lasting these blooms can be if properly cared for. With regular watering and trimming stems every few days along with fresh water changes every other day; this bouquet can continue bringing cheerfulness for up to two weeks.

There is simply no denying the sheer loveliness radiating from within this exquisite floral arrangement offered by the Light and Lovely Bouquet. The gentle colors combined with thoughtful design make it an absolute must-have addition to any home or a delightful gift to brighten someone's day. Order yours today and experience the joy it brings firsthand.

Asters feel like they belong in some kind of ancient myth. Like they should be scattered along the path of a wandering hero, or woven into the hair of a goddess, or used as some kind of celestial marker for the change of seasons. And honestly, they sort of are. Named after the Greek word for "star," asters bloom just as summer starts fading into fall, as if they were waiting for their moment, for the air to cool and the light to soften and the whole world to be just a little more ready for something delicate but determined.

Because that’s the thing about asters. They look delicate. They have that classic daisy shape, those soft, layered petals radiating out from a bright center, the kind of flower you could imagine a child picking absentmindedly in a field somewhere. But they are not fragile. They hold their shape. They last in a vase far longer than you’d expect. They are, in many ways, one of the most reliable flowers you can add to an arrangement.

And they work with everything. Asters are the great equalizers of the flower world, the ones that make everything else look a little better, a little more natural, a little less forced. They can be casual or elegant, rustic or refined. Their size makes them perfect for filling in spaces between larger blooms, giving the whole arrangement a sense of movement, of looseness, of air. But they’re also strong enough to stand on their own, to be the star of a bouquet, a mass of tiny star-like blooms clustered together in a way that feels effortless and alive.

The colors are part of the magic. Deep purples, soft lavenders, bright pinks, crisp whites. And then the centers, always a contrast—golden yellows, rich oranges, sometimes almost coppery, creating this tiny explosion of color in every single bloom. You put them next to a rose, and suddenly the rose looks a little less stiff, a little more like something that grew rather than something that was placed. You pair them with wildflowers, and they fit right in, like they were meant to be there all along.

And maybe the best part—maybe the thing that makes asters feel different from other flowers—is that they don’t just sit there, looking pretty. They do something. They add energy. They bring lightness. They give the whole arrangement a kind of wild, just-picked charm that’s almost impossible to fake. They don’t overpower, but they don’t disappear either. They are small but significant, delicate but lasting, soft but impossible to ignore.

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

Morning in Kittery, Maine, arrives as a slow-motion ballet of gulls and salt breeze, the kind of dawn that makes you wonder why anyone would ever choose to live inland. The Piscataqua River flexes its muscle here, a wide, muscular flow separating this southernmost sliver of Maine from New Hampshire’s jagged coast. Bridges arc overhead like steel parentheses, framing a town that seems both fiercely present and quietly haunted by the ghosts of shipwrights, lobstermen, colonial soldiers who once paced these shores. Walk the streets now and you feel it, the past isn’t dead here. It’s just napping.

The heart of Kittery beats in its harbor. Fishermen in oilskin jackets mend nets with fingers knotted as rope. Their boats bob in a syncopated rhythm, hulls creaking against docks that have held fast for centuries. Up the road, Fort McClary’s granite ruins crouch over the water, their hexagonal blocks worn smooth by nor’easters and the idle hands of tourists. On weekends, local reenactors in tricorn hats pretend to fire cannons at imaginary British ships. Children dart between the battlements, their laughter bouncing off stone. History here isn’t a textbook abstraction. It’s a living thing, as tangible as the kelp-strewn rocks below the lighthouse.

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

Commerce hums along Route 1, where outlet stores sprawl in a neon mosaic. Visitors flock for deals on designer socks, discounted cookware, maple syrup in glass bottles shaped like moose. But peel back the retail veneer and you’ll find something quieter, more resilient. A family-run bookstore where the owner recommends novels based on your astrological sign. A ceramics studio selling mugs glazed the exact blue of a November sea. A café where regulars argue about crossword clues over cardamom buns still warm from the oven. These places persist not in spite of Kittery’s tourist traffic but because of it, a delicate symbiosis between the ephemeral and the eternal.

Drive southeast, past clapboard houses with hydrangea bushes fat as Volkswagens, and the land tightens into a coastal gasp. Fort Foster Park juts into the Atlantic, its pebble beaches littered with driftwood sculptures left by some anonymous, whimsical tide. At low tide, tidal pools become microcosms: hermit crabs sidestepping anemones, periwinkles etching lazy trails in the sand. Kids crouch with nets, their parents staring at the horizon where freighters inch toward Portsmouth Harbor. The air smells of iodine and possibility.

What anchors Kittery isn’t its geography or its history but its people, a tribe of stubborn optimists who’ve mastered the art of bending time. They move with the unhurried certainty of those who know the sea will wait. Teenagers pilot dinghies to nowhere. Retired teachers tend rose gardens with military precision. Lobstermen swap jokes in a diner booth, their boots leaving gritty souvenirs on the linoleum. There’s a collective understanding here that life’s urgency is a myth. The real work happens in increments: painting a hull, knitting a scarf, stirring chowder in a pot that’s older than the state.

By dusk, the bridges glow like necklaces, their lights reflecting in the river’s black mirror. You could mistake this place for a postcard, a quaint artifact of New England charm. But stay awhile. Watch how the moon hangs over Pepperrell Cove, how the night collects in the pines. Kittery doesn’t beg to be admired. It simply exists, stubborn and unpretentious, a reminder that some places refuse to be smoothed into abstraction. They demand you feel them in your bones, the salt, the granite, the quiet pulse of a tide that never stops its work.