June 1, 2025

The Bloom Central flower delivery of the month for June in DeFuniak Springs is the Aqua Escape Bouquet

The Aqua Escape Bouquet from Bloom Central is a delightful floral masterpiece that will surely brighten up any room. With its vibrant colors and stunning design, it's no wonder why this bouquet is stealing hearts.

Bringing together brilliant orange gerbera daisies, orange spray roses, fragrant pink gilly flower, and lavender mini carnations, accented with fronds of Queen Anne's Lace and lush greens, this flower arrangement is a memory maker.

What makes this bouquet truly unique is its aquatic-inspired container. The aqua vase resembles gentle ripples on water, creating beachy, summertime feel any time of the year.

As you gaze upon the Aqua Escape Bouquet, you can't help but feel an instant sense of joy and serenity wash over you. Its cool tones combined with bursts of vibrant hues create a harmonious balance that instantly uplifts your spirits.

Not only does this bouquet look incredible; it also smells absolutely divine! The scent wafting through the air transports you to blooming gardens filled with fragrant blossoms. It's as if nature itself has been captured in these splendid flowers.

The Aqua Escape Bouquet makes for an ideal gift for all occasions whether it be birthdays, anniversaries or simply just because! Who wouldn't appreciate such beauty?

And speaking about convenience, did we mention how long-lasting these blooms are? You'll be amazed at their endurance as they continue to bring joy day after day. Simply change out the water regularly and trim any stems if needed; easy peasy lemon squeezy!

So go ahead and treat yourself or someone dear with the extraordinary Aqua Escape Bouquet from Bloom Central today! Let its charm captivate both young moms and experienced ones alike. This stunning arrangement, with its soothing vibes and sweet scent, is sure to make any day a little brighter!

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

The town of DeFuniak Springs sits in the Florida Panhandle like a well-kept secret, a pocket of stillness where the air hums with cicadas and the past feels present enough to touch. It is a place where the word “quaint” does not condescend. The centerpiece is Lake DeFuniak, a near-perfect circle of spring-fed water that mirrors the sky with such clarity you might mistake it for a pupil, gazing upward as if to ask the universe why more people don’t stop to notice. The lake is both geographic fact and metaphor here, a still point around which the town orbits, its shores lined with homes that wear their Victorian-era bones like proud elders. Wide porches cradle rocking chairs, and the sidewalks, actual sidewalks, the kind that invite strolling, curve beneath canopies of live oaks whose Spanish moss ripples in breezes that smell of pine and damp earth.

To walk these streets is to move through a living archive. The Chautauqua Hall of Brotherhood, a white-columned relic from 1909, stands as a monument to an era when crowds gathered not for screens but for lectures, concerts, the shared hunger to know more. The building seems to whisper that curiosity once had a shape, a place, a season. Today, the DeFuniak Springs Library, housed in a redbrick Carnegie building that could double as a postcard, offers a quieter kind of communion. Its shelves hold local histories, dog-eared novels, the faint scent of glue and paper. A librarian here will tell you about the time a patron checked out a book on cloud formations and returned it with pressed flowers inside, a spontaneous addendum to the chapter on cumulus.

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

The people move at a pace that suggests time is not a resource to be mined but a meadow to wander. A man in a straw hat tends roses in a yard no bigger than a hotel room, clipping blooms to give to his neighbor. Kids pedal bikes past storefronts where the word “antique” is redundant. At the Walton County Heritage Museum, housed in a former train depot, volunteers preserve artifacts with the care of monks transcribing scripture: a rusted plow, a faded quilt, a photograph of a 1920s baseball team posing with the gravity of statesmen. The museum’s custodian, a woman whose hands know every item’s story, will tell you about the town’s founding, a railroad executive’s dream of a utopia framed by water, and how the dream endures, not as fantasy but as practice.

Come December, the lake becomes a necklace of lights, each house and oak draped in bulbs that glow without irony. Families drive from counties away to circle the water, their headlights off, as if the spectacle demands reverence. It’s the kind of tradition that thrives here, unburdened by spectacle, fueled by the simple belief that beauty matters. Even the heat of summer, thick enough to taste, carries a rhythm: mornings belong to garden hisses and the thump of ripe peaches falling; afternoons to the murmur of ceiling fans and the flick of playing cards shuffled on screened porches.

There’s a temptation to frame DeFuniak Springs as an anachronism, a holdout against the modern frenzy. But that feels lazy, unfair. What exists here isn’t resistance so much as clarity, a recognition that some things, a lake’s reflection, a repaired porch swing, the habit of waving at every passing car, refuse to lose their currency. The town’s quietness isn’t absence. It’s a kind of presence, a reminder that life can be lived in lowercase, its sentences punctuated by crickets, its paragraphs shaped by the arc of a heron lifting off the water. You leave wondering if the world’s true pulse might be felt not in its noise but in its pauses, in places that know how to hold their breath and listen.