June 1, 2025

The Bloom Central flower delivery of the month for June in Fennimore is the Circling the Sun Luxury Bouquet

The Circling the Sun Luxury Bouquet is a floral arrangement that simply takes your breath away! Bursting with vibrant colors and delicate blooms, this bouquet is as much a work of art as it is a floral arrangement.

As you gaze upon this stunning arrangement, you'll be captivated by its sheer beauty. Arranged within a clear glass pillow vase that makes it look as if this bouquet has been captured in time, this design starts with river rocks at the base topped with yellow Cymbidium Orchid blooms and culminates with Captain Safari Mini Calla Lilies and variegated steel grass blades circling overhead. A unique arrangement that was meant to impress.

What sets this luxury bouquet apart is its impeccable presentation - expertly arranged by Bloom Central's skilled florists who pour heart into every petal placement. Each flower stands gracefully at just right height creating balance within itself as well as among others in its vicinity-making it look absolutely drool-worthy!

Whether gracing your dining table during family gatherings or adding charm to an office space filled with deadlines the Circling The Sun Luxury Bouquet brings nature's splendor indoors effortlessly. This beautiful gift will brighten the day and remind you that life is filled with beauty and moments to be cherished.

With its stunning blend of colors, fine craftsmanship, and sheer elegance the Circling the Sun Luxury Bouquet from Bloom Central truly deserves a standing ovation. Treat yourself or surprise someone special because everyone deserves a little bit of sunshine in their lives!"

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

The sun paints the cornfields around Fennimore, Wisconsin, in a gold that feels both eternal and urgent, a color that insists you pull over and step out of your car to stand very still for a moment. This is a town that announces itself first through its silos, tall, cylindrical sentinels rising from the earth like monuments to human patience. The roads here curve in a way that suggests the land itself decided where people should go, and the people, sensible Midwesterners that they are, agreed without argument. To drive into Fennimore is to feel the gravitational tug of a place that has not so much resisted modernity as politely declined to make a fuss about it.

What you notice first, beyond the fields, is the railroad. The tracks cut through the center of town, a steel spine that once connected this speck on the map to the pulse of the country. The Fennimore Railroad Historical Society Museum sits beside those tracks, its old depot housing artifacts that whisper of steam and sweat and the determined chug of progress. Inside, a restored 1903 steam locomotive looms like a secular idol, its wheels taller than children. You can almost hear the echoes of conductors calling arrival times, the hiss of boilers, the clatter of crates loaded with things people needed. The museum is not large, but it does not need to be. It is a synapse where past and present touch, and the effect is quietly profound.

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

Walk three blocks east and you’ll find the Fennimore Doll and Toy Museum, a place that could, in lesser hands, feel like a cabinet of curiosities. Instead, it vibrates with a peculiar warmth. Hundreds of dolls, porcelain, cloth, plastic, line the shelves, their glass eyes reflecting the soft light from overhead fixtures. Each doll has a sign noting its origin and year, but what lingers isn’t the data. It’s the sense that these objects were loved fiercely by someone, that they were held and repaired and preserved not out of obligation but something closer to reverence. A volunteer named Marjorie, who has manned the front desk for 22 years, will tell you about the doll donated by a woman who carried it across the Atlantic as a child refugee in 1944. The story takes nine minutes. You will not check your watch.

Outside, the streets of Fennimore (pop. 2,497) move at a pace that feels both leisurely and purposeful. A man in a feed cap waves at a passing pickup without looking up from his hedges. A group of teenagers pedals bikes toward the library, backpacks slung over shoulders like soft tortoiseshells. The library itself is a redbrick building with a porch swing and a perpetually updated display window, this month featuring paper sculptures of mythical creatures crafted by the summer reading club. Inside, the air smells of aged paper and lemon wood polish. The librarian knows most patrons by name but will not share this information, even under hypothetical interrogation.

At dusk, the sky opens into gradients of pink and violet, and the local park fills with families. Kids dart around the playground while parents trade updates on zucchini yields and the high school football team’s prospects. The park’s gazebo hosts Friday night concerts in July, polka, bluegrass, the occasional brass ensemble, and tonight, a quartet of retirees plays old folk tunes. Their harmonies are imperfect, exuberant. A toddler in overalls claps off-beat, and no one minds.

Leaving Fennimore, you take County Road Z south, rolling past barns and Holsteins and mailboxes shaped like miniature barns. The town recedes in your rearview, but something stays with you, a certainty that this place, with its unassuming rhythm and hidden depths, operates on a logic both simpler and more nuanced than the world beyond its borders. It is a logic that values repair over replacement, that finds dignity in tending a garden or a locomotive or a shelf full of dolls. You realize, somewhere near the county line, that you’re smiling. The cornfields blur into a green-gold streak, and for a moment, you consider turning back.