June 1, 2025

The Bloom Central flower delivery of the month for June in Greenhills 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!

Craspedia looks like something a child would invent if given a yellow crayon and free reign over the laws of botany. It is, at its core, a perfect sphere. A bright, golden, textured ball sitting atop a long, wiry stem, like some kind of tiny sun bobbing above the rest of the arrangement. It does not have petals. It does not have frills. It is not trying to be delicate or romantic or elegant. It is, simply, a ball on a stick. And somehow, in that simplicity, it becomes unforgettable.

This is not a flower that blends in. It stands up, literally and metaphorically. In a bouquet full of soft textures and layered colors, Craspedia cuts through all of it with a single, unapologetic pop of yellow. It is playful. It is bold. It is the exclamation point at the end of a perfectly structured sentence. And the best part is, it works everywhere. Stick a few stems in a sleek, modern arrangement, and suddenly everything looks clean, graphic, intentional. Drop them into a loose, wildflower bouquet, and they somehow still fit, adding this unexpected burst of geometry in the middle of all the softness.

And the texture. This is where Craspedia stops being just “fun” and starts being legitimately interesting. Up close, the ball isn’t just smooth, but a tight, honeycomb-like cluster of tiny florets, all fused together into this dense, tactile surface. Run your fingers over it, and it feels almost unreal, like something manufactured rather than grown. In an arrangement, this kind of texture does something weird and wonderful. It makes everything else more interesting by contrast. The fluff of a peony, the ruffled edges of a carnation, the feathery wisp of astilbe—all of it looks softer, fuller, somehow more alive when there’s a Craspedia nearby to set it off.

And then there’s the way it lasts. Fresh Craspedia holds its color and shape far longer than most flowers, and once it dries, it looks almost exactly the same. No crumbling, no fading, no slow descent into brittle decay. A vase of dried Craspedia can sit on a shelf for months and still look like something you just brought home. It does not age. It does not wilt. It does not lose its color, as if it has decided that yellow is not just a phase, but a permanent state of being.

Which is maybe what makes Craspedia so irresistible. It is a flower that refuses to take itself too seriously. It is fun, but not silly. Striking, but not overwhelming. Modern, but not trendy. It brings light, energy, and just the right amount of weirdness to any bouquet. Some flowers are about elegance. Some are about romance. Some are about tradition. Craspedia is about joy. And if you don’t think that belongs in a flower arrangement, you might be missing the whole point.

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

Greenhills, Ohio, sits quietly in the southwestern curve of the state, a place where the past and present fold into each other like hands in prayer. The village announces itself first in geometry. Streets curve with a deliberateness rare in American towns, bending around a central green space as if the planners, depression-era idealists dreaming of utopias made brick and mortar, understood that community, like water, needs a vessel. The houses, those butter-yellow and sage-green cottages with roofs like jaunty caps, cluster in rows that suggest both order and embrace. To walk these sidewalks in the honeyed light of early morning is to feel the ghost of 1930s optimism humming beneath your feet. Residents here still plant roses in tidy front yards. They wave to neighbors pushing strollers. They pause, mid-errand, to chat under the shade of old-growth oaks that predate the town itself. There is a rhythm here, a cadence that resists the frenetic scroll of modern life.

The village green remains the living room of Greenhills. On weekends, kids chase soccer balls across grass worn soft by decades of small cleats. Parents lounge on benches, half-watching the game, half-watching the clouds drift like idle thoughts. An ice cream truck, its melody plinking through the air like a music box, draws a line of children who stand wide-eyed before its window, clutching dollar bills passed down from grandparents who once stood in the same spot, under the same trees, with the same sticky anticipation. The Greenhills Pool, that turquoise rectangle of summer joy, erupts with cannonballs and laughter. Lifeguards, local teens with sunscreen-streaked noses, scan the water with a solemnity that feels both comical and deeply earnest.

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

History here is not a relic but a participant. The community center, a low-slung building with a facade that whispers New Deal, hosts quilting circles and town hall meetings where debates over zoning laws or park upgrades unfold with a civility that feels almost radical. The old WPA murals inside, farmers tilling soil, workers raising beams, still pulse with the urgency of their moment. At the Greenhills branch library, retirees pore over newspapers while toddlers stack board books into wobbly towers. The librarians know everyone by name. They recommend mysteries to the woman who gardens in sun hats and help fifth graders locate books on volcanoes.

Commerce in Greenhills is a modest but tenacious creature. The bakery on Farragut Road has been dusting the same maple bars with powdered sugar since the ’70s. The hardware store, its aisles narrow as pencil boxes, stocks every screw and hinge a person could need, and the owner will demonstrate how to fix a leaky faucet if you ask nicely. A coffee shop opened last year in a converted bungalow, its tables crammed with students and remote workers sipping lattes. The barista, a philosophy major from Cincinnati, remembers your usual order by the second visit.

What’s striking about Greenhills is not its quaintness but its durability. This is a town that has chosen, again and again, to hold onto itself. Solar panels now dot rooftops where TV antennas once bristled. The community garden, a burst of zucchini and sunflowers, donates half its yield to a food pantry. A annual festival turns the green into a carnival of face paint and bluegrass music, and everyone from toddlers to octogenarians sways to the same twangy chords. Neighbors still shovel each other’s driveways after snowstorms. They still hold potlucks where casseroles and stories are passed hand to hand.

To spend time here is to wonder, quietly, if the architects of Greenhills knew something we’re still trying to learn. That a town is more than infrastructure. That curves are kinder than gridlines. That a shared lawn, a pool, a sidewalk lined with oaks, can be a kind of covenant. The world beyond the village hums with existential buzz, but Greenhills persists, a quiet argument for the beauty of staying small, staying connected, staying awake to one another.