June 1, 2025

The Bloom Central flower delivery of the month for June in Deerwood 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?

Tulips don’t just stand there. They move. They twist their stems like ballet dancers mid-pirouette, bending toward light or away from it, refusing to stay static. Other flowers obey the vase. Tulips ... they have opinions. Their petals close at night, a slow, deliberate folding, then open again at dawn like they’re revealing something private. You don’t arrange tulips so much as collaborate with them.

The colors aren’t colors so much as moods. A red tulip isn’t merely red—it’s a shout, a lipstick smear against the green of its stem. The purple ones have depth, a velvet richness that makes you want to touch them just to see if they feel as luxurious as they look. And the white tulips? They’re not sterile. They’re luminous, like someone turned the brightness up on them. Mix them in a bouquet, and suddenly the whole thing vibrates, as if the flowers are quietly arguing about which one is most alive.

Then there’s the shape. Tulips don’t do ruffles. They’re sleek, architectural, petals cupped just enough to suggest a bowl but never spilling over. Put them next to something frilly—peonies, say, or ranunculus—and the contrast is electric, like a modernist sculpture placed in a Baroque hall. Or go minimalist: a cluster of tulips in a clear glass vase, stems tangled just so, and the arrangement feels effortless, like it assembled itself.

They keep growing after you cut them. This is the thing most people don’t know. A tulip in a vase isn’t done. It stretches, reaches, sometimes gaining an inch or two overnight, as if refusing to accept that it’s been plucked from the earth. This means your arrangement changes shape daily, evolving without permission. One day it’s compact, tidy. The next, it’s wild, stems arcing in unpredictable directions. You don’t control tulips. You witness them.

Their leaves are part of the show. Long, slender, a blue-green that somehow makes the flower’s color pop even harder. Some arrangers strip them away, thinking they clutter the stem. Big mistake. The leaves are punctuation, the way they curve and flare, giving the eye a path to follow from tabletop to bloom. Without them, a tulip looks naked, unfinished.

And the way they die. Tulips don’t wither so much as dissolve. Petals loosen, drop one by one, but even then, they’re elegant, landing like confetti after a quiet celebration. There’s no messy collapse, just a gradual letting go. You could almost miss it if you’re not paying attention. But if you are ... it’s a lesson in grace.

So sure, you could stick to roses, to lilies, to flowers that stay where you put them. But where’s the fun in that? Tulips refuse to be predictable. They bend, they grow, they shift the light around them. An arrangement with tulips isn’t a thing you make. It’s a thing that happens.

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

Deerwood, Minnesota, sits in Crow Wing County like a well-kept secret whispered between pines. The town’s population hovers just north of 500, a number that feels both intimate and expansive when you consider how much space each person takes up in the collective imagination here. To drive through Deerwood is to pass through a living diorama of Midwestern particularity, a post office where the clerk knows your name before you speak, a diner where the eggs come with a side of earnest conversation, a library where the squeak of sneakers on linoleum is the day’s loudest interruption. The air smells perpetually of lakewater and cut grass, a scent that clings to your clothes like a friendly ghost.

What’s easy to miss, unless you pause to let the place unspool itself, is how Deerwood’s quietness isn’t passive but participatory. The town demands you lean in. Take the Cuyuna Lakes State Trail, which ribbons through the area like a vein of exposed bedrock. Cyclists glide over its paths in summer, their laughter bouncing off the granite cliffs left by miners a century ago. In winter, snowmobilers trace the same routes, engines humming a low hymn to motion. The lakes themselves, Cuyuna, Deerwood, Serpent, hold the sky in their grasp each morning, reflecting clouds so vividly you half-expect them to drip from the branches overhead. Locals will tell you, with the straight-faced conviction of people who’ve earned the right to certainty, that these waters cure restlessness. You believe them.

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

The Deerwood Drug store has stood on Broadway Avenue since 1907, its soda fountain still dispensing phosphates in glass tulip cups. The owner, a man whose hands move with the precision of a horologist, will explain the difference between a lime rickey and a cherry smash without a hint of irony. Down the block, the Deerwood Theater marquee announces not just films but birthdays, anniversaries, the occasional high school graduation. The projectionist doubles as a history teacher at the middle school, and sometimes, if you linger after the credits, he’ll emerge from the booth to discuss John Sturges’s use of widescreen in Bad Day at Black Rock.

What defines Deerwood isn’t nostalgia, though. It’s the way the present tense here feels like a shared project. Neighbors repaint the community center every spring without being asked. The annual Summerfest parade features not just fire trucks and marching bands but a contingent of kids riding elaborately decorated bicycles, their handlebars wrapped in crepe paper, their training wheels sparkling with glued-on glitter. You get the sense that everyone here is quietly, stubbornly invested in the idea that small things matter. A woman tends the flower boxes outside the bank with the focus of a surgeon. A retired farmer spends Tuesday afternoons teaching teenagers how to replace a carburetor. The local newsletter runs a column called “What’s Blooming,” which catalogs gardens with the reverence of a sommelier reviewing Bordeaux.

There’s a story locals tell about the tornado of 1992, how it veered abruptly south just before reaching town, as if repelled by some invisible force. Scientists blame atmospheric pressure. Residents shrug and mention the time, years earlier, when the entire community gathered to rebuild a widow’s barn in a single day. The unspoken thesis seems to be that certain kinds of care generate their own weather. You walk away from Deerwood wondering if that’s true, and why, everywhere else, we’ve decided to pretend it isn’t.