June 1, 2025

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

Anthuriums don’t just bloom ... they architect. Each flower is a geometric manifesto—a waxen heart (spathe) pierced by a spiky tongue (spadix), the whole structure so precisely alien it could’ve been drafted by a botanist on LSD. Other flowers flirt. Anthuriums declare. Their presence in an arrangement isn’t decorative ... it’s a hostile takeover of the visual field.

Consider the materials. That glossy spathe isn’t petal, leaf, or plastic—it’s a botanical uncanny valley, smooth as poured resin yet palpably alive. The red varieties burn like stop signs dipped in lacquer. The whites? They’re not white. They’re light itself sculpted into origami, edges sharp enough to slice through the complacency of any bouquet. Pair them with floppy hydrangeas, and the hydrangeas stiffen, suddenly aware they’re sharing a vase with a structural engineer.

Their longevity mocks mortality. While roses shed petals like nervous habits and orchids sulk at tap water’s pH, anthuriums persist. Weeks pass. The spathe stays taut, the spadix erect, colors clinging to vibrancy like toddlers to candy. Leave them in a corporate lobby, and they’ll outlast mergers, rebrands, three generations of potted ferns.

Color here is a con. The pinks aren’t pink—they’re flamingo dreams. The greens? Chlorophyll’s avant-garde cousin. The rare black varieties absorb light like botanical singularities, their spathes so dark they seem to warp the air around them. Cluster multiple hues, and the arrangement becomes a Pantone riot, a chromatic argument resolved only by the eye’s surrender.

They’re shape-shifters with range. In a stark white vase, they’re mid-century modern icons. Tossed into a jungle of monstera and philodendron, they’re exclamation points in a vegetative run-on sentence. Float one in a shallow bowl, and it becomes a Zen koan—nature’s answer to the question “What is art?”

Scent is conspicuously absent. This isn’t a flaw. It’s a power play. Anthuriums reject olfactory melodrama. They’re here for your eyes, your Instagram grid, your lizard brain’s primal response to saturated color and clean lines. Let gardenias handle nuance. Anthuriums deal in visual artillery.

Their stems bend but don’t break. Thick, fibrous, they arc with the confidence of suspension cables, hoisting blooms at angles so precise they feel mathematically determined. Cut them short for a table centerpiece, and the arrangement gains density. Leave them long in a floor vase, and the room acquires new vertical real estate.

Symbolism clings to them like pollen. Hospitality! Tropical luxury! (Flower shops love this.) But strip the marketing away, and what remains is pure id—a plant that evolved to look like it was designed by humans, for humans, yet somehow escaped the drafting table to colonize rainforests.

When they finally fade (months later, probably), they do it without fanfare. Spathes thin to parchment, colors bleaching to vintage postcard hues. Keep them anyway. A desiccated anthurium in a winter window isn’t a corpse ... it’s a fossilized exclamation point. A reminder that even beauty’s expiration can be stylish.

You could default to roses, to lilies, to flowers that play by taxonomic rules. But why? Anthuriums refuse to be categorized. They’re the uninvited guest who redesigns your living room mid-party, the punchline that becomes the joke. An arrangement with them isn’t décor ... it’s a revolution. Proof that sometimes, the most extraordinary things wear their strangeness like a crown.

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

The campus of DeSales University sits like a quiet argument against the frenzy of modern education, its redbrick buildings arranged with a kind of Franciscan modesty among the soft green hills of Pennsylvania’s Lehigh Valley. Morning light slants across the quad, where backpacks bob toward classrooms and the air hums with the low, purposeful murmur of students debating Kant’s categorical imperative or the biomechanics of a pirouette. This is a place where the liberal arts and professional studies share not just a zip code but a bloodstream, where nursing majors dissect ethics alongside anatomy, and theater students parse Shakespearean verse with the intensity of litigators. The vibe is less career factory than village, a community where professors know your name, your stumbles, your potential, and where the word mentorship isn’t a brochure cliché but a daily practice.

Walk into the Labuda Center for the Performing Arts on a Thursday evening, and you’ll find a freshman gripping a script, eyes wide as she drills a scene from Our Town, her voice finding its weight under the patient gaze of a director who once understudied on Broadway. Down the hall, a stagecraft class debates the merits of minimalist set design, their hands still dusty from building flats. The theater here isn’t just a department; it’s an ethos, a belief that storytelling is both art and service, a way to knead truth into the dough of everyday life. Across campus, in the newly expanded Gambet Center, business students huddle around screens, mapping supply-chain algorithms for a local nonprofit. The room crackles with the energy of minds trained to see profit and purpose as Venn diagrams waiting to overlap.

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

DeSales defies the cold transactional feel of many contemporary colleges. Its Catholic Salesian identity, rooted in the teachings of St. Francis de Sales, doesn’t proselytize so much as permeate, emphasizing “gentleness and strength,” a phrase that echoes in the way faculty navigate office hours, coaches lead drills, and peers collaborate on service projects in Allentown’s underserved neighborhoods. The university’s mission feels less like a plaque in the administration building and more like a rhythm, a heartbeat in the shared work of nursing students practicing triage simulations, or biology majors tracking bird migrations in the nearby Trexler Nature Preserve. Even the architecture whispers intentionality: modern glass-and-steel additions grafted respectfully onto older structures, a metaphor for how tradition and innovation here aren’t foes but dance partners.

What lingers, though, beyond the stats about postgrad employment or accolades for the physician assistant program, is the texture of human connection. A sophomore engineering major pauses mid-problem to explain tensor calculus to a struggling classmate. A theology professor eats lunch in the commons, laughing with a table of athletes. There’s a humility to the place, a lack of pretense that masks its rigor. Students here don’t just earn degrees; they build narratives, ones threaded with the understanding that excellence and compassion are muscles to flex in tandem.

By dusk, the campus empties into a thousand directions: study groups in the library, rehearsal rooms alive with scales and soliloquies, a pickup soccer game where a senior goalie dives for a ball just because it’s fun. The sky bruises purple over the Blue Mountains, and you get the sense that this tiny university, with its stubborn focus on the whole person, is quietly rebutting the cynicism of the age. It’s a place where the question isn’t What will you do? but Who will you be?, and the answer, whatever its shape, seems to matter deeply.