June 1, 2025

The Bloom Central flower delivery of the month for June in Lakewood is the Happy Day Bouquet

The Happy Day Bouquet from Bloom Central is simply adorable. This charming floral arrangement is perfect for brightening up any room in your home. It features a delightful mix of vibrant flowers that will instantly bring joy to anyone who sees them.

With cheery colors and a playful design the Happy Day Bouquet is sure to put a smile on anyone's face. The bouquet includes a collection of yellow roses and luminous bupleurum plus white daisy pompon and green button pompon. These blooms are expertly arranged in a clear cylindrical glass vase with green foliage accents.

The size of this bouquet is just right - not too big and not too small. It is the perfect centerpiece for your dining table or coffee table, adding a pop of color without overwhelming the space. Plus, it's so easy to care for! Simply add water every few days and enjoy the beauty it brings to your home.

What makes this arrangement truly special is its versatility. Whether you're celebrating a birthday, anniversary, or simply want to brighten someone's day, the Happy Day Bouquet fits the bill perfectly. With timeless appeal makes this arrangement is suitable for recipients of all ages.

If you're looking for an affordable yet stunning gift option look no further than the Happy Day Bouquet from Bloom Central. As one of our lowest priced arrangements, the budget-friendly price allows you to spread happiness without breaking the bank.

Ordering this beautiful bouquet couldn't be easier either. With Bloom Central's convenient online ordering system you can have it delivered straight to your doorstep or directly to someone special in just a few clicks.

So why wait? Treat yourself or surprise someone dear with this delightful floral arrangement today! The Happy Day Bouquet will undoubtedly uplift spirits and create lasting memories filled with joy and love.

Consider the Nigella ... a flower that seems spun from the raw material of fairy tales, all tendrils and mystery, its blooms hovering like sapphire satellites in a nest of fennel-green lace. You’ve seen them in cottage gardens, maybe, or poking through cracks in stone walls, their foliage a froth of threadlike leaves that dissolve into the background until the flowers erupt—delicate, yes, but fierce in their refusal to be ignored. Pluck one stem, and you’ll find it’s not a single flower but a constellation: petals like tissue paper, stamens like minuscule lightning rods, and below it all, that intricate cage of bracts, as if the plant itself is trying to hold its breath.

What makes Nigellas—call them Love-in-a-Mist if you’re feeling romantic, Devil-in-a-Bush if you’re not—so singular is their refusal to settle. They’re shape-shifters. One day, a five-petaled bloom the color of a twilight sky, soft as a bruise. The next, a swollen seed pod, striped and veined like some exotic reptile’s egg, rising from the wreckage of spent petals. Florists who dismiss them as filler haven’t been paying attention. Drop a handful into a vase of tulips, and the tulips snap into focus, their bold cups suddenly part of a narrative. Pair them with peonies, and the peonies shed their prima donna vibe, their blousy heads balanced by Nigellas’ wiry grace.

Their stems are the stuff of contortionists—thin, yes, but preternaturally strong, capable of looping and arching without breaking, as if they’ve internalized the logic of cursive script. Arrange them in a tight bundle, and they’ll jostle for space like commuters. Let them sprawl, and they become a landscape, all negative space and whispers. And the colors. The classic blue, so intense it seems to vibrate. The white varieties, like snowflakes caught mid-melt. The deep maroons that swallow light. Each hue comes with its own mood, its own reason to lean closer.

But here’s the kicker: Nigellas are time travelers. They bloom, fade, and then—just when you think the show’s over—their pods steal the scene. These husks, papery and ornate, persist for weeks, turning from green to parchment to gold, their geometry so precise they could’ve been drafted by a mathematician with a poetry habit. Dry them, and they become heirlooms. Toss them into a winter arrangement, and they’ll outshine the holly, their skeletal beauty a rebuke to the season’s gloom.

They’re also anarchists. Plant them once, and they’ll reseed with the enthusiasm of a rumor, popping up in sidewalk cracks, between patio stones, in the shadow of your rose bush. They thrive on benign neglect, their roots gripping poor soil like they prefer it, their faces tilting toward the sun as if to say, Is that all you’ve got? This isn’t fragility. It’s strategy. A survivalist’s charm wrapped in lace.

And the names. ‘Miss Jekyll’ for the classicists. ‘Persian Jewels’ for the magpies. ‘Delft Blue’ for those who like their flowers with a side of delftware. Each variety insists on its own mythology, but all share that Nigella knack for blurring lines—between wild and cultivated, between flower and sculpture, between ephemeral and eternal.

Use them in a bouquet, and you’re not just adding texture. You’re adding plot twists. A Nigella elbowing its way between ranunculus and stock is like a stand-up comic crashing a string quartet ... unexpected, jarring, then suddenly essential. They remind us that beauty doesn’t have to shout. It can insinuate. It can unravel. It can linger long after the last petal drops.

Next time you’re at the market, skip the hydrangeas. Bypass the alstroemerias. Grab a bunch of Nigellas. Let them loose on your dining table, your desk, your windowsill. Watch how the light filigrees through their bracts. Notice how the air feels lighter, as if the room itself is breathing. You’ll wonder how you ever settled for arrangements that made sense. Nigellas don’t do sense. They do magic.

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

Lakewood, Illinois, sits like a well-kept secret along the western edge of the prairie, a town where the sky feels both enormous and intimate, pressing down with a blue so rich it seems to hum. To drive into Lakewood is to enter a place where time moves at the pace of a bicycle. Children pedal past rows of Victorian homes with wraparound porches, their laughter trailing behind them like streamers. The air carries the scent of cut grass and lake water, a crispness that makes your lungs feel newly minted. People here still wave at strangers, not out of obligation but because their hands appear to move on their own, as if connected to some deeper wiring.

The heart of Lakewood is its lake, a wide, shallow basin that glimmers like a sheet of tin under the sun. In summer, teenagers cannonball off wooden docks while retirees cast fishing lines into the still water, their hats tilted against the glare. The lake doesn’t dazzle with grandeur. It invites. It insists you notice how the light shifts at dusk, how the surface ripples in a breeze that seems to arrive just for you. Kayakers drift past stands of cottonwood trees, their paddles dipping with a rhythm so steady it becomes a kind of meditation. You get the sense that every resident has a favorite spot along the shoreline, a particular bench, a knotty oak, a curve of beach where the sand stays cool, and that these spots are both fiercely loved and freely shared.

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

Downtown Lakewood consists of six blocks of redbrick storefronts housing a hardware store that still sells individual nails by weight, a diner with pie rotations chalked daily on a blackboard, and a bookstore where the owner recommends novels based on your mood. The sidewalks are wide and clean. People pause to chat outside the post office, their conversations looping from weather to grandchildren to the merits of mulching perennials in early fall. There’s a palpable absence of hurry. A man in overalls might spend 20 minutes explaining how to repot a fern, his hands gesturing like a conductor’s, and you’ll realize you haven’t once glanced at your phone.

What’s easy to miss, at first, is how carefully Lakewood guards its sense of community. The high school football team’s Friday night games draw half the town, not because the sport itself compels them, but because everyone wants to stand under those bleacher lights together, sharing thermoses of lemonade and cheering for the same kids they’ve watched grow up. The library hosts a weekly story hour where toddlers pile onto a rug woven with a map of the world, their fingers tracing continents as a librarian reads aloud. Every July, the entire population gathers in the park for a concert series, local bands playing folk songs and jazz standards, while fireflies blink lazily in the oaks.

It’s tempting to think of towns like Lakewood as relics, places bypassed by the modern world’s frenetic energy. But that’s not quite right. Lakewood isn’t frozen. It’s deliberate. It chooses. The bakery owner wakes at 4 a.m. to knead dough not because she has to, but because the act gives her joy, and she knows the exact crackle of a fresh baguette can brighten a stranger’s morning. The barber remembers your name after one visit, asks about your job, your dog, your mother’s knee surgery, because these details matter. The streets are quiet but never empty, humming with a low, persistent warmth, like a teakettle on the edge of singing.

On the outskirts of town, trails wind through meadows thick with goldenrod and milkweed, converging at a hilltop where the view stretches for miles. From here, Lakewood looks small, almost swallowed by the vastness of the plains. But stand there long enough and you start to see the connections, the way a porch light flickers on at dusk, a neighbor helping unload groceries, a group of kids racing home before the streetlights buzz to life. It’s a reminder that belonging isn’t about scale. It’s about the accumulation of tiny, willing kindnesses, the choice to pay attention. Lakewood, in its quiet way, masters this.