June 1, 2025

The Bloom Central flower delivery of the month for June in Deering is the Be Bold Bouquet by Better Homes and Gardens

Introducing the Be Bold Bouquet by Better Homes and Gardens floral arrangement! Blooming with bright colors to boldly express your every emotion, this exquisite flower bouquet is set to celebrate. Hot pink roses, purple Peruvian Lilies, lavender mini carnations, green hypericum berries, lily grass blades, and lush greens are brought together to create an incredible flower arrangement.

The flowers are artfully arranged in a clear glass cube vase, allowing their natural beauty to shine through. The lucky recipient will feel like you have just picked the flowers yourself from a beautiful garden!

Whether you're celebrating an anniversary, sending get well wishes or simply saying 'I love you', the Be Bold Bouquet is always appropriate. This floral selection has timeless appeal and will be cherished by anyone who is lucky enough to receive it.

Better Homes and Gardens has truly outdone themselves with this incredible creation. Their attention to detail shines through in every petal and leaf - creating an arrangement that not only looks stunning but also feels incredibly luxurious.

If you're looking for a captivating floral arrangement that brings joy wherever it goes, the Be Bold Bouquet by Better Homes and Gardens is the perfect choice. The stunning colors, long-lasting blooms, delightful fragrance and affordable price make it a true winner in every way. Get ready to add a touch of boldness and beauty to someone's life - you won't regret it!

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

The morning fog over Deering Reservoir has the texture of something both ephemeral and eternal, a gauze that clings to the water as if protecting it from the day’s first noises, the creak of oars, the plunk of a fishing lure, the distant thrum of a pickup crossing the bridge on Old County Road. In Deering, New Hampshire, population 1,812 and holding, the day begins not with alarms but with a kind of collective inhale. Horses nudge dew-laced grass in pastures flanked by stone walls that predate the combustion engine. A retired teacher in mud boots walks her corgi past the Deering Community Church, its white steeple a silent metronome keeping time for a town that seems, at first glance, to resist time altogether.

What you notice first, if you’re the sort who notices things, is the soundscape. Crickets. Wind combing through stands of white pine. The groan of a porch swing chain. Voices here carry in a way that city voices don’t, a neighbor’s laugh from across a field, the call-and-response of kids biking toward the lake with towels around their necks. At the Deering General Store, where sunlight slants through warped windowpanes, a clerk restocks shelves with maple syrup in glass jugs while two regulars debate the merits of bait versus lures. The floorboards creak underfoot like a language. You can still buy a hand-sewn quilt here, a gallon of milk, a spark plug, a conversation.

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

The town’s rhythm syncs to the school-year calendar. In autumn, the Deering Elementary playground swarms with children chasing leaves. Parents sell cider and pumpkins at a roadside stand with an honor-system coffee can. Winter brings a hush so profound it feels almost sacred, the snowbanks glowing blue under moonlight as plows carve narrow passes between farmsteads. By spring, the volunteer fire department hosts a pancake breakfast in the town hall basement, where locals trade stories of mud season and the peculiar angst of roofing repairs. Summer is all fireflies and softball games at Dustin Field, where teenagers play with a competitive gentleness, hyperaware that their rivals are also their classmates, their prom dates, their future babysitters.

Deering’s geography insists on participation. Trails wind through Fox State Forest, urging hikers to notice the fiddleheads uncurling in damp soil. The reservoir, a liquid mirror, rewards kayakers with glimpses of herons and the occasional moose. Even the town’s history feels tactile: the 1792 Meetinghouse, still hosting potlucks and town votes, wears its original hand-forged nails like jewelry. At the library, a converted one-room schoolhouse, children stack books on desks scarred by the pencils of ancestors they can name.

There’s a tendency, among those who mistake quiet for emptiness, to dismiss places like Deering as relics. But talk to the woman who runs the flower farm on Baptist Hill, her hands caked with soil as she describes the math of peony seasons, or the high school coach who spends weekends building trails for hikers he’ll never meet. What animates Deering isn’t nostalgia, it’s the quiet understanding that community is a verb. The diner owner who spots a lone diner and slides into their booth to chat isn’t being nosy; she’s ensuring no one eats alone. The mechanic who fixes a tractor pro bono at harvest time does so because brokenness, here, is a shared project.

To visit Deering is to glimpse a paradox: a town that exists largely under the radar, yet radiates a sense of belonging so precise it could GPS a soul. It’s not that life here lacks complexity. It’s that the complexities, the griefs, joys, tensions, are weathered collectively, like barns that lean but never collapse, fortified by layers of paint and care. You leave wondering if the rest of us have it backward, chasing futures that Deering seems to have already mastered, one sunrise, one handshake, one potluck at a time.