June 1, 2025

The Bloom Central flower delivery of the month for June in Covert is the Forever in Love Bouquet

Introducing the Forever in Love Bouquet from Bloom Central, a stunning floral arrangement that is sure to capture the heart of someone very special. This beautiful bouquet is perfect for any occasion or celebration, whether it is a birthday, anniversary or just because.

The Forever in Love Bouquet features an exquisite combination of vibrant and romantic blooms that will brighten up any space. The carefully selected flowers include lovely deep red roses complemented by delicate pink roses. Each bloom has been hand-picked to ensure freshness and longevity.

With its simple yet elegant design this bouquet oozes timeless beauty and effortlessly combines classic romance with a modern twist. The lush greenery perfectly complements the striking colors of the flowers and adds depth to the arrangement.

What truly sets this bouquet apart is its sweet fragrance. Enter the room where and you'll be greeted by a captivating aroma that instantly uplifts your mood and creates a warm atmosphere.

Not only does this bouquet look amazing on display but it also comes beautifully arranged in our signature vase making it convenient for gifting or displaying right away without any hassle. The vase adds an extra touch of elegance to this already picture-perfect arrangement.

Whether you're celebrating someone special or simply want to brighten up your own day at home with some natural beauty - there is no doubt that the Forever in Love Bouquet won't disappoint! The simplicity of this arrangement combined with eye-catching appeal makes it suitable for everyone's taste.

No matter who receives this breathtaking floral gift from Bloom Central they'll be left speechless by its charm and vibrancy. So why wait? Treat yourself or surprise someone dear today with our remarkable Forever in Love Bouquet. It is a true masterpiece that will surely leave a lasting impression of love and happiness in any heart it graces.

The Chocolate Cosmos doesn’t just sit in a vase—it lingers. It hovers there, radiating a scent so improbably rich, so decadently specific, that your brain short-circuits for a second trying to reconcile flower and food. The name isn’t hyperbole. These blooms—small, velvety, the color of dark cocoa powder dusted with cinnamon—actually smell like chocolate. Not the cloying artificiality of candy, but the deep, earthy aroma of baker’s chocolate melting in a double boiler. It’s olfactory sleight of hand. It’s witchcraft with petals.

Visually, they’re understudies at first glance. Their petals, slightly ruffled, form cups no wider than a silver dollar, their maroon so dark it reads as black in low light. But this is their trick. In a bouquet of shouters—peonies, sunflowers, anything begging for attention—the Chocolate Cosmos works in whispers. It doesn’t compete. It complicates. Pair it with blush roses, and suddenly the roses smell sweeter by proximity. Tuck it among sprigs of mint or lavender, and the whole arrangement becomes a sensory paradox: garden meets patisserie.

Then there’s the texture. Unlike the plasticky sheen of many cultivated flowers, these blooms have a tactile depth—a velveteen nap that begs fingertips. Brushing one is like touching the inside of an antique jewelry box ... that somehow exudes the scent of a Viennese chocolatier. This duality—visual subtlety, sensory extravagance—makes them irresistible to arrangers who prize nuance over noise.

But the real magic is their rarity. True Chocolate Cosmoses (Cosmos atrosanguineus, if you’re feeling clinical) no longer exist in the wild. Every plant today is a clone of the original, propagated through careful division like some botanical heirloom. This gives them an aura of exclusivity, a sense that you’re not just buying flowers but curating an experience. Their blooming season, mid-to-late summer, aligns with outdoor dinners, twilight gatherings, moments when scent and memory intertwine.

In arrangements, they serve as olfactory anchors. A single stem on a dinner table becomes a conversation piece. "No, you’re not imagining it ... yes, it really does smell like dessert." Cluster them in a low centerpiece, and the scent pools like invisible mist, transforming a meal into theater. Even after cutting, they last longer than expected—their perfume lingering like a guest who knows exactly when to leave.

To call them decorative feels reductive. They’re mood pieces. They’re scent sculptures. In a world where most flowers shout their virtues, the Chocolate Cosmos waits. It lets you lean in. And when you do—when that first whiff of cocoa hits—it rewires your understanding of what a flower can be. Not just beauty. Not just fragrance. But alchemy.

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

Covert, Michigan, sits where the land flattens into something like a held breath before the exhale of Lake Michigan’s shoreline. The town’s name suggests secrecy, but there’s nothing hidden here. Drive through on a Tuesday. The sun bleaches the two-lane road. Cornfields stretch toward the horizon, their leaves whispering in a dialect older than borders. A red tractor putters behind a fence. A woman in denim overalls waves at your car, though she’s never seen you. The air smells of topsoil and possibility. This is a place where the word “community” isn’t an abstraction. It’s the thing you trip over daily, a root jutting from the earth.

Founded in the 1860s, Covert became a quiet revolution. Before the Civil War ended, Black and white settlers worked adjacent farms, their children attending the same one-room schoolhouse. Imagine that. In an era when much of America treated integration as a threat, Covert’s residents simply… shared. They voted together, celebrated harvests together, buried their dead in the same loam. Historians call it “remarkable,” but locals, if pressed, might shrug. Survival here demanded collective labor. The soil didn’t care about your skin. The Great Lake, with its mercurial storms, didn’t check your papers before swallowing your boat. Hardship erodes barriers. Or maybe it reveals their flimsiness.

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

Today, the town’s legacy lives in the way a third-grader named Nguyen helps an octogenarian named Johnson plant marigolds outside the library. It’s in the Fourth of July parade where a Mexican folk dance troupe twirls past a high school jazz band, and everyone claps. The Covert Historical Museum, housed in a former church, displays photographs of 19th-century picnics: Black and white faces side by side, forks spearing the same potato salad. Visitors sometimes ask, “How?” The docent smiles. “We just kept choosing it,” she says.

Farming remains the spine of the town. Families tend blueberries, asparagus, apples. Migrant workers arrive each season, their RVs forming a transient neighborhood off M-140. At the Covert General Store, you’ll find local honey, motor oil, and a bulletin board papered with offers: Need help repairing a barn roof? Call Carlos. Spanish lessons, Tuesdays at the community center. Free zucchini, take a bag! The cashier knows your coffee order by the second visit. Outside, teenagers loiter by pickup trucks, debating whether to drive to South Haven for pizza or stay for the sunset over the lake.

The lake itself is Covert’s secret heartbeat. From downtown, it’s a five-minute drive to sandy bluffs where the water sprawls like an inverted sky. In summer, kids cannonball off the pier. Retirees hunt for Petoskey stones, their fingers sifting gravel. At dusk, the horizon blurs. Gulls wheel. You can’t tell where the world ends and the water begins. A man in a kayak drifts, his paddle dripping silver. He’s thinking about nothing. Or everything. The lake doesn’t distinguish.

What binds Covert isn’t grandiosity. No monuments. No traffic lights. Just a stubborn, unspoken agreement to keep showing up, for each other, for the land, for the faint idea that a town can be both ordinary and extraordinary. The post office closes at noon on Wednesdays. The diner serves pie that tastes like your childhood. At the high school football game, the crowd cheers whether the team wins or loses. Under the Friday night lights, you’ll see it: hands clapping, voices tangled, a mosaic of faces glowing in the chill. Covert doesn’t hide. It holds. It’s a lesson in how to live, written in the margins of America’s frantic text.