June 1, 2025

The Bloom Central flower delivery of the month for June in Kenmore 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 thing with zinnias ... and I'm not just talking about the zinnia elegans variety but the whole genus of these disk-shaped wonders with their improbable geometries of color. There's this moment when you're standing at the florist counter or maybe in your own garden, scissors poised, and you have to make a choice about what goes in the vase, what gets to participate in the temporary sculpture that will sit on your dining room table or office desk. And zinnias, man, they're basically begging for the spotlight. They come in colors that don't even seem evolutionarily justified: screaming magentas, sulfur yellows, salmon pinks that look artificially manufactured but aren't. The zinnia is a native Mexican plant that somehow became this democratic flower, available to anyone who wants a splash of wildness in their orderly arrangements.

Consider the standard rose bouquet. Nice, certainly, tried and true, conventional, safe. Now add three or four zinnias to that same arrangement and suddenly you've got something that commands attention, something that makes people pause in their everyday movements through your space and actually look. The zinnia refuses uniformity. Each bloom is a fractal wonderland of tiny florets, hundreds of them, arranged in patterns that would make a mathematician weep with joy. The centers of zinnias are these incredible spiraling cones of geometric precision, surrounded by rings of petals that can be singles, doubles, or these crazy cactus-style ones that look like they're having some kind of botanical identity crisis.

What most people don't realize about zinnias is their almost supernatural ability to last. Cut flowers are dying things, we all know this, part of their poetry is their impermanence. But zinnias hold out against the inevitable longer than seems reasonable. Two weeks in a vase and they're still there, still vibrant, still holding their shape while other flowers have long since surrendered to entropy. You can actually watch other flowers in the arrangement wilt and fade while the zinnias maintain their structural integrity with this almost willful stubbornness.

There's something profoundly American about them, these flowers that Thomas Jefferson himself grew at Monticello. They're survivors, adaptable to drought conditions, resistant to most diseases, blooming from midsummer until frost kills them. The zinnia doesn't need coddling or special conditions. It's not pretentious. It's the opposite of those hothouse orchids that demand perfect humidity and filtered light. The zinnia is workmanlike, showing up day after day with its bold colors and sturdy stems.

And the variety ... you can get zinnias as small as a quarter or as large as a dessert plate. You can get them in every color except true blue (a limitation they share with most flowers, to be fair). They mix well with everything: dahlias, black-eyed Susans, daisies, sunflowers, cosmos. They're the friendly extroverts of the flower world, getting along with everyone while still maintaining their distinct personality. In an arrangement, they provide both structure and whimsy, both foundation and flourish. The zinnia is both reliable and surprising, a paradox that blooms.

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

In Kenmore, Washington, a certain quality of light arrives with the morning. It comes filtered through mist rising off the Sammamish River, which moves through the town like a quiet thought, bending where the land asks it to bend. At Squire’s Landing Park, where the river widens to meet Lake Washington, joggers and cyclists glide along the Burke-Gilman Trail, their breath visible in the crisp air. They nod to one another, not as strangers, exactly, but as participants in a shared ritual. This is a town where the rhythm of the day syncs with the rustle of cedar branches, the call of a heron banking low over water, the creak of a paddleboard pushed away from shore.

Kenmore’s downtown, compact and unassuming, defies the inert sprawl of other suburbs. Here, storefronts wear their histories without nostalgia. The Kenmore Pharmacy has operated since 1958, its neon sign a steady beacon. Next door, a coffee roastery spills the scent of freshly ground beans into the street, drawing in neighbors who linger at wooden tables, their hands curled around mugs. Conversations hum beneath the whir of grinders, talk of softball leagues, cherry blossoms, the best trails for spotting bald eagles. The absence of pretense feels almost radical. You get the sense that no one is performing “small-town charm”; they’re just living, their routines interwoven with the land itself.

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

The river remains both anchor and compass. Weekends find families launching kayaks at Log Boom Park, kids clutching nets to skim the shallows for tadpoles. Retirees fly-fish in waders, their lines flicking back and forth like metronomes. Along the banks, blackberry brambles knot themselves into thickets, offering August bounty to anyone patient enough to brave the thorns. Even the name “Kenmore” nods to the water, a portmanteau of “Kennydale” and “shoremore,” coined by early 20th-century developers who envisioned a lakeside retreat. A century later, the retreat persists, but for residents, not outsiders. The water isn’t a spectacle. It’s a neighbor.

What’s compelling about Kenmore isn’t just its natural theater but how unselfconsciously people inhabit it. Teens gather at the skatepark, their boards clattering against concrete, while parents push strollers toward the farmers market, where tents bloom each Sunday with dahlias and honey and heirloom tomatoes. At a community garden near Swamp Creek, volunteers kneel in soil, trading tips on deterring aphids. There’s an ethic here, not of ambition, exactly, but of tending. Tending gardens, trails, relationships. The town’s unofficial motto could be “Keep it, but share it.”

Growth, of course, tugs at the edges. Construction cranes hover near the Bothell border, and housing developments rise where once there were ferns. Yet Kenmore’s response feels deliberate, a collective exhale. Voters fund green spaces, expand the trail system, insist on sidewalks wide enough for couples to walk three abreast. The library, a modernist cube with floor-to-ceiling windows, hosts origami workshops and citizenship classes. You notice the choices: benches angled toward the water, not the parking lot; crosswalks painted the bright blue of a kingfisher’s wing.

To pass through Kenmore is to witness a community that has decided, quietly but firmly, what it wants to be. Not a destination, but a home. Not a postcard, but a living system, rooted, adaptive, flush with the kind of unforced joy that comes from knowing your place and keeping it well. The river keeps moving, but the town, in its way, holds steady. As afternoon sun slants through the firs, a man pauses on his bike to watch a child reel in a silvery fish. The moment lasts only seconds. Then the wheels turn again, the trail pulls everyone forward, and the water reflects it all without judgment.