June 1, 2025

The Bloom Central flower delivery of the month for June in Franklin is the High Style Bouquet

Introducing the High Style Bouquet from Bloom Central. This bouquet is simply stunning, combining an array of vibrant blooms that will surely brighten up any room.

The High Style Bouquet contains rich red roses, Stargazer Lilies, pink Peruvian Lilies, burgundy mini carnations, pink statice, and lush greens. All of these beautiful components are arranged in such a way that they create a sense of movement and energy, adding life to your surroundings.

What makes the High Style Bouquet stand out from other arrangements is its impeccable attention to detail. Each flower is carefully selected for its beauty and freshness before being expertly placed into the bouquet by skilled florists. It's like having your own personal stylist hand-pick every bloom just for you.

The rich hues found within this arrangement are enough to make anyone swoon with joy. From velvety reds to soft pinks and creamy whites there is something here for everyone's visual senses. The colors blend together seamlessly, creating a harmonious symphony of beauty that can't be ignored.

Not only does the High Style Bouquet look amazing as a centerpiece on your dining table or kitchen counter but it also radiates pure bliss throughout your entire home. Its fresh fragrance fills every nook and cranny with sweet scents reminiscent of springtime meadows. Talk about aromatherapy at its finest.

Whether you're treating yourself or surprising someone special in your life with this breathtaking bouquet from Bloom Central, one thing remains certain: happiness will blossom wherever it is placed. So go ahead, embrace the beauty and elegance of the High Style Bouquet because everyone deserves a little luxury in their life!

Amaranthus does not behave like other flowers. It does not sit politely in a vase, standing upright, nodding gently in the direction of the other blooms. It spills. It drapes. It cascades downward in long, trailing tendrils that look more like something from a dream than something you can actually buy from a florist. It refuses to stay contained, which is exactly why it makes an arrangement feel alive.

There are two main types, though “types” doesn’t really do justice to how completely different they look. There’s the upright kind, with tall, tapering spikes that look like velvet-coated wands reaching toward the sky, adding height and texture and this weirdly ancient, almost prehistoric energy to a bouquet. And then there’s the trailing kind, the showstopper, the one that flows downward in thick ropes, soft and heavy, like some extravagant, botanical waterfall. Both versions have a weight to them, a physical presence that makes the usual rules of flower arranging feel irrelevant.

And the color. Deep, rich, impossible-to-ignore shades of burgundy, magenta, crimson, chartreuse. They look saturated, velvety, intense, like something out of an old oil painting, the kind where fruit and flowers are arranged on a wooden table with dramatic lighting and tiny beads of condensation on the grapes. Stick Amaranthus in a bouquet, and suddenly it feels more expensive, more opulent, more like it should be displayed in a room with high ceilings and heavy curtains and a kind of hushed reverence.

But what really makes Amaranthus unique is movement. Arrangements are usually about balance, about placing each stem at just the right angle to create a structured, harmonious composition. Amaranthus doesn’t care about any of that. It moves. It droops. It reaches out past the edge of the vase and pulls everything around it into a kind of organic, unplanned-looking beauty. A bouquet without Amaranthus can feel static, frozen, too aware of its own perfection. Add those long, trailing ropes, and suddenly there’s drama. There’s tension. There’s this gorgeous contrast between what is contained and what refuses to be.

And it lasts. Long after more delicate flowers have wilted, after the petals have started falling and the leaves have lost their luster, Amaranthus holds on. It dries beautifully, keeping its shape and color for weeks, sometimes months, as if it has decided that decay is simply not an option. Which makes sense, considering its name literally means “unfading” in Greek.

Amaranthus is not for the timid. It does not blend in, does not behave, does not sit quietly in the background. It transforms an arrangement, giving it depth, movement, and this strange, undeniable sense of history, like it belongs to another era but somehow ended up here. Once you start using it, once you see what it does to a bouquet, how it changes the whole mood of a space, you will not go back. Some flowers are beautiful. Amaranthus is unforgettable.

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

Franklin, Wisconsin, sits quietly under the Midwest sky like a well-kept secret, a place where the sprawl of Milwaukee’s suburbs surrenders to fields of soy and corn, where the hum of highway traffic fades into the rustle of oak leaves. To drive through Franklin is to witness a negotiation between past and present, a town that refuses to let go of its agrarian roots even as it stitches itself into the fabric of modern American life. The streets here curve with the lazy logic of cow paths, bending around century-old farms repurposed as community centers, ice cream shops, museums that house antique plows and the stories of families who once worked the land until their hands split like overripe fruit.

The people of Franklin move through their days with a kind of unspoken gratitude, as if aware they’ve been spared the frenetic anonymity of bigger cities. Parents coach Little League games in parks so green they seem Photoshopped. Retirees pedal bikes along the Root River Trail, waving to strangers with the reflexive cheer of characters in a sitcom. Teenagers loiter outside the Piggly Wiggly, their laughter bouncing off pickup trucks plastered with decals of deer silhouettes and Jesus fish. There’s a density to the air here, a thickness that comes not from humidity but from the weight of small interactions, the barista memorizing your order, the librarian setting aside a book she thinks you’ll like, the guy at the hardware store explaining how to fix a leaky faucet in exhaustive, earnest detail.

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

Franklin’s identity is tangled in its contradictions. It is a town where you can stand in the parking lot of a strip mall and watch a red-tailed hawk circle a retention pond stocked with bass. Where the local historical society occupies a building that once served as a stop on the Underground Railroad, its walls still whispering with the footfalls of freedom seekers. Where the Friday night football game draws a crowd so large and devout you’d think it was a revival meeting, complete with homemade pies sold at halftime to fundraise for new band uniforms. The town’s pulse is steady, syncopated by the rhythms of harvest festivals, summer concerts in Lion’s Park, the annual parade where fire trucks gleam like toys and children scramble for candy tossed by men in rotary Club polos.

What anchors Franklin, what keeps it from dissolving into the generic slurry of Americana, is its insistence on preservation. Not just of landmarks, though there’s plenty of that, from the 19th-century cottages on Main Street to the stone barns that dot the countryside, but of ethos. This is a community that still believes in the alchemy of potlucks, where casseroles and condolences are delivered in equal measure. Where the school district’s budget is a matter of public debate but the decision to plant native wildflowers around the elementary school is unanimous. Where the farmers market isn’t a tourist trap but a weekly ritual, vendors hawking heirloom tomatoes and jars of honey as if they’re trading in gold.

To spend time here is to feel the presence of something quietly radical: a rejection of the disposable, a commitment to the tangible. Franklin’s beauty isn’t the kind that shouts. It’s in the way the sunset turns the fields to copper, in the smell of rain on fresh-cut grass, in the sound of a high school marching band practicing scales at dusk while fireflies blink their approval. It’s a town that reminds you life can be lived slowly, that progress doesn’t have to mean erasure, that a place can hold its history in one hand and the future in the other without squeezing either too tight.

You leave Franklin wondering why more towns aren’t like it, why we’ve decided to equate ambition with velocity, success with scale. And then you realize: They’re not all Franklin. They don’t have its stubborn heart.