June 1, 2025

The Bloom Central flower delivery of the month for June in Newberg 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.

Asters feel like they belong in some kind of ancient myth. Like they should be scattered along the path of a wandering hero, or woven into the hair of a goddess, or used as some kind of celestial marker for the change of seasons. And honestly, they sort of are. Named after the Greek word for "star," asters bloom just as summer starts fading into fall, as if they were waiting for their moment, for the air to cool and the light to soften and the whole world to be just a little more ready for something delicate but determined.

Because that’s the thing about asters. They look delicate. They have that classic daisy shape, those soft, layered petals radiating out from a bright center, the kind of flower you could imagine a child picking absentmindedly in a field somewhere. But they are not fragile. They hold their shape. They last in a vase far longer than you’d expect. They are, in many ways, one of the most reliable flowers you can add to an arrangement.

And they work with everything. Asters are the great equalizers of the flower world, the ones that make everything else look a little better, a little more natural, a little less forced. They can be casual or elegant, rustic or refined. Their size makes them perfect for filling in spaces between larger blooms, giving the whole arrangement a sense of movement, of looseness, of air. But they’re also strong enough to stand on their own, to be the star of a bouquet, a mass of tiny star-like blooms clustered together in a way that feels effortless and alive.

The colors are part of the magic. Deep purples, soft lavenders, bright pinks, crisp whites. And then the centers, always a contrast—golden yellows, rich oranges, sometimes almost coppery, creating this tiny explosion of color in every single bloom. You put them next to a rose, and suddenly the rose looks a little less stiff, a little more like something that grew rather than something that was placed. You pair them with wildflowers, and they fit right in, like they were meant to be there all along.

And maybe the best part—maybe the thing that makes asters feel different from other flowers—is that they don’t just sit there, looking pretty. They do something. They add energy. They bring lightness. They give the whole arrangement a kind of wild, just-picked charm that’s almost impossible to fake. They don’t overpower, but they don’t disappear either. They are small but significant, delicate but lasting, soft but impossible to ignore.

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

Newberg, Oregon, sits in the Chehalem Valley like a well-kept secret, the kind of place where the air smells of damp earth and possibility. You notice it first in the trees, Douglas firs that stand sentinel along backroads, maples whose leaves flutter like pages of a book left open to the right chapter. The town’s streets curve lazily, resisting grids, as if laid out by someone who trusted geography more than geometry. Locals here still wave at unfamiliar cars. They pause mid-stride to watch hawks carve circles into the sky. There’s a rhythm here that feels both deliberate and unforced, a tempo set by seasons rather than seconds.

To walk downtown is to step into a living archive. Brick facades wear their histories without pretension: a hardware store that’s survived six decades, a family-run bakery where the cinnamon rolls achieve a Platonic ideal of gooeyness. Murals bloom on alleyway walls, vibrant as the dahlias in nearby gardens, depicting scenes of harvests and hopscotch and faces of people who probably have names like Earl or Marjorie. The coffee shop on College Avenue hums with students from George Fox University, their backpacks slumping like tired pets, their conversations a mix of theology and TikTok trends. You get the sense that this town has mastered a rare alchemy, blending past and present without dissolving either.

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

The Chehalem Mountains rise gently to the east, their slopes quilted with nurseries and orchards. Farmers here speak of soil like sommeliers describe terroir, with reverence for the particular magic of loam and rainfall. In spring, fields erupt in shades that Crayola hasn’t yet named. By autumn, pumpkins pile high at roadside stands, each one a round, orange promise. Trails wind through Bald Peak State Park, where hikers move beneath canopies of oak and madrone, their footsteps crunching in syncopated time. Cyclists pedal country roads, nodding at horses that gaze back with the serene indifference of creatures who’ve never checked an email.

What’s striking about Newberg isn’t just its beauty, though the sunsets over the Yamhill River could make a stone sigh, but the way community functions as both verb and noun. Volunteers stock the Little Free Libraries with novels and knitting patterns. Teachers host poetry slams at the local bookstore. On Saturdays, the farmers market becomes a mosaic of tents, offering lavender honey, heirloom tomatoes, and the kind of small talk that evolves into friendships. There’s a palpable sense of stewardship here, a collective understanding that a town survives by being tended, not just inhabited.

George Fox University anchors the town’s intellectual spine, its campus a sprawl of green lawns and red-brick ambition. Students debate philosophy over drip coffee, their voices mingling with the clatter of skateboards on sidewalks. The university’s art gallery rotates exhibits like a dial tuning to different frequencies, watercolor landscapes one month, kinetic sculptures the next. You can attend a lecture on quantum physics in the afternoon and hear live bluegrass at the park by evening, the fiddle notes spiraling upward like sparks from a campfire.

Newberg defies the inertia of elsewhere. It’s a place where people still plant trees they won’t live to sit under, where the diner waitress remembers your order after one visit, where the library’s summer reading program feels as consequential as a congressional hearing. Drive its backroads at dusk, and you’ll pass barns painted the color of a heartbeat, their silhouettes softening into the hills. It’s easy to romanticize, but romance implies illusion. What exists here is quieter, sturdier, a town that chooses, daily, to be a home.