June 1, 2025

The Bloom Central flower delivery of the month for June in Ormond Beach is the Beyond Blue Bouquet

The Beyond Blue Bouquet from Bloom Central is the perfect floral arrangement to brighten up any room in your home. This bouquet features a stunning combination of lilies, roses and statice, creating a soothing and calming vibe.

The soft pastel colors of the Beyond Blue Bouquet make it versatile for any occasion - whether you want to celebrate a birthday or just show someone that you care. Its peaceful aura also makes it an ideal gift for those going through tough times or needing some emotional support.

What sets this arrangement apart is not only its beauty but also its longevity. The flowers are hand-selected with great care so they last longer than average bouquets. You can enjoy their vibrant colors and sweet fragrance for days on end!

One thing worth mentioning about the Beyond Blue Bouquet is how easy it is to maintain. All you need to do is trim the stems every few days and change out the water regularly to ensure maximum freshness.

If you're searching for something special yet affordable, look no further than this lovely floral creation from Bloom Central! Not only will it bring joy into your own life, but it's also sure to put a smile on anyone else's face.

So go ahead and treat yourself or surprise someone dear with the delightful Beyond Blue Bouquet today! With its simplicity, elegance, long-lasting blooms, and effortless maintenance - what more could one ask for?

Consider the heliconia ... that tropical anarchist of the floral world, its blooms less flowers than avant-garde sculptures forged in some botanical fever dream. Picture a flower that didn’t so much evolve as erupt—bracts like lobster claws dipped in molten wax, petals jutting at angles geometry textbooks would call “impossible,” stems thick enough to double as curtain rods. You’ve seen them in hotel lobbies maybe, or dripping from jungle canopies, their neon hues and architectural swagger making orchids look prissy, birds of paradise seem derivative. Snip one stalk and suddenly your dining table becomes a stage ... the heliconia isn’t decor. It’s theater.

What makes heliconias revolutionary isn’t their size—though let’s pause here to note that some varieties tower at six feet—but their refusal to play by floral rules. These aren’t delicate blossoms begging for admiration. They’re ecosystems. Each waxy bract cradles tiny true flowers like secrets, offering nectar to hummingbirds while daring you to look closer. Their colors? Imagine a sunset got into a fistfight with a rainbow. Reds that glow like stoplights. Yellows so electric they hum. Pinks that make bubblegum look muted. Pair them with palm fronds and you’ve built a jungle. Add them to a vase of anthuriums and the anthuriums become backup dancers.

Their structure defies logic. The ‘Lobster Claw’ variety curls like a crustacean’s pincer frozen mid-snap. The ‘Parrot’s Beak’ arcs skyward as if trying to escape its own stem. The ‘Golden Torch’ stands rigid, a gilded sceptre for some floral monarch. Each variety isn’t just a flower but a conversation—about boldness, about form, about why we ever settled for roses. And the leaves ... oh, the leaves. Broad, banana-like plates that shimmer with rainwater long after storms pass, their veins mapping some ancient botanical code.

Here’s the kicker: heliconias are marathoners in a world of sprinters. While hibiscus blooms last a day and peonies sulk after three, heliconias persist for weeks, their waxy bracts refusing to wilt even as the rest of your arrangement turns to compost. This isn’t longevity. It’s stubbornness. A middle finger to entropy. Leave one in a vase and it’ll outlast your interest, becoming a fixture, a roommate, a pet that doesn’t need feeding.

Their cultural resume reads like an adventurer’s passport. Native to Central and South America but adopted by Hawaii as a state symbol. Named after Mount Helicon, home of the Greek muses—a fitting nod to their mythic presence. In arrangements, they’re shape-shifters. Lean one against a wall and it’s modern art. Cluster five in a ceramic urn and you’ve summoned a rainforest. Float a single bract in a shallow bowl and your mantel becomes a Zen koan.

Care for them like you’d handle a flamboyant aunt—give them space, don’t crowd them, and never, ever put them in a narrow vase. Their stems thirst like marathoners. Recut them underwater to keep the water highway flowing. Strip lower leaves to avoid swampiness. Do this, and they’ll reward you by lasting so long you’ll forget they’re cut ... until guests arrive and ask, breathlessly, What are those?

The magic of heliconias lies in their transformative power. Drop one into a bouquet of carnations and the carnations stiffen, suddenly aware they’re extras in a blockbuster. Pair them with proteas and the arrangement becomes a dialogue between titans. Even alone, in a too-tall vase, they command attention like a soloist hitting a high C. They’re not flowers. They’re statements. Exclamation points with roots.

Here’s the thing: heliconias make timidity obsolete. They don’t whisper. They declaim. They don’t complement. They dominate. And yet ... their boldness feels generous, like they’re showing other flowers how to be brave. Next time you see them—strapped to a florist’s truck maybe, or sweating in a greenhouse—grab a stem. Take it home. Let it lean, slouch, erupt in your foyer. Days later, when everything else has faded, your heliconia will still be there, still glowing, still reminding you that nature doesn’t do demure. It does spectacular.

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

Ormond Beach announces itself at dawn not with the brashness of its flashier Floridian siblings but with a quiet, almost apologetic sigh of waves folding into sand. The Atlantic here flexes its muscle in gradients: indigo to teal to a foam that dissolves like spun sugar underfoot. Early risers move in silhouette, their shadows stretching across the damp shore as if pulled by the planet’s own rotation. They are joggers, shell hunters, retirees with metal detectors whispering over the dunes. The air carries the tang of salt and the vegetal musk of sea oats trembling in the breeze. This is a place where the sun doesn’t just rise but arrives, painting the horizon in pinks so vivid they feel like a private joke between the sky and whoever bothered to look up.

The town itself huddles a few blocks west, a quilt of pastel storefronts and squat palms. Its streets bear names like Granada and Oceanside, as if the founders hoped to conjure Old World grandeur from the scrubby coastal soil. They didn’t need to. Ormond’s charm lies in its unforced humility. The Casements, a sprawling mansion turned cultural hub, anchors the riverfront with its gabled roof and wraparound porch. Once a winter retreat for John D. Rockefeller, it now hosts yoga classes and art exhibits, its halls echoing with the soft clatter of children’s shoes on historic tile. Across the way, the Halifax River slides by, its surface dappled with sunlight and the occasional leap of a mullet. Kayakers paddle in its wake, trailing fingers in water warm as bathwater.

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

History here isn’t entombed under glass but breathes in the hum of daily life. On Beach Street, antique shops coexist with cafes serving key lime pie in crimped aluminum tins. Locals greet each other by name, swapping stories over iced tea. The town’s automotive legacy, once the proving ground for early speed demons like the Stanley Steamer, lingers in the whine of distant engines, though these days the races are confined to memories and the occasional vintage car show. Innovation, it turns out, can be a gentle ghost.

Head inland, and the scenery shifts. The Tomoka River threads through marshes where herons stalk prey with the focus of philosophers. Live oaks, their branches bearded with Spanish moss, form a cathedral canopy over the Ormond Scenic Loop, a 30-mile ribbon of road that unspools past cypress swamps and tidal creeks. Cyclists pedal here in pairs, their laughter mingling with the rasp of palm fronds. At Tomoka State Park, visitors can stand beneath a bronze statue of Chief Tomokie, his arrow forever drawn against some unseen horizon, and feel the weight of stories older than highways or hotels.

By afternoon, the beach reclaims its momentum. Families spread towels under umbrellas the colors of tropical fruit. Kids shriek at the kiss of cold surf. Sandpipers dart at the water’s edge, their legs a blur of sticks in motion. Lifeguards scan the swells, though the waves today are polite, rolling in like uninvited guests who’ve decided to behave. Further north, the coastline narrows to a spit of land where the river meets the sea. Anglers cast lines here, patient as tides, their rods arcing against the blue.

Come evening, the sky performs its final act. The sun sinks, gilding clouds in gold leaf, and the beach empties slowly, reluctantly. Back in town, the Friday farmers’ market erupts in a carnival of scent and sound. Vendors hawk strawberries the size of thumbs, jars of local honey, empanadas whose flaky crusts crackle under teeth. A guitarist strums something breezy and familiar. Teenagers slurp lemon ice, their phones forgotten. Strangers become neighbors under strings of fairy lights.

It would be easy to frame Ormond Beach as a relic, a holdout against the neon creep of modern Florida. But that undersells it. This is a town that has learned the trick of balance, honoring its roots without embalming them, embracing the present tense. To walk its shore at twilight, watching the first stars puncture the dusk, is to feel the same quiet awe that attends any good magic trick: the revelation that beauty doesn’t have to shout to be heard.