You are thinking about someone up on that hill and you cannot get there yourself. Maybe you are interstate, maybe you are overseas, maybe you are only across the river in Bellerive and the day got away from you. The people who live up here have mostly been here a long time, they built careers in Hobart and raised families on these streets, and they are not the sort to move. They are easy to overlook in a busy week and quick to notice when something turns up at the door. That is the whole reason we do this.
Send something up here in July and it is a different job to a delivery in town. Tolmans Hill sits two to three hundred metres higher than the CBD, on roads that wind up through a native tree covenant, and the gullies between the houses hold frost until mid-morning. The partner florist who covers the hill knows which drives on Pulchella and Hakea need backing out of, and where the cold pools, so the flowers go to a sheltered spot rather than an exposed step. Ten minutes from town, and a world of altitude away.
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"Beautiful flowers exactly as ordered. The flowers were exactly as ordered and beautiful when they arrived. That rarely happens when you order from overseas. My Mum was really thrilled and impressed with the colours and quality of her bouquet. I will definitely use Lily's again."
Julie O'Callaghan · verified customer · Stunning Pinks Bunch · ordered from overseas
Send Pink Flowers to Tolmans HillJulie ordered from the other side of the world and her mother opened the door to exactly what was on the screen. The fear every distance order carries is a simple one: will it look like the photo?
The Stunning Pinks is a tight spiral hand-tie, and the spiral is what protects you. Roses set in the centre, gerberas sitting a little lower, spray stems and foliage closing the gaps, all bound on the turn so the dome cannot slump into something thin. A florist building it works to the same spiral whether the bench is in Hobart or Brisbane, which is why a daughter overseas and a mother up the hill end up looking at the same bunch. Pull the gerberas when they tire around day five and what is left holds another week in a cool lounge like the ones up here.
People think cold is the enemy of cut flowers. It is the opposite, and I spent years on the phones saying so. Cold slows the respiration in a cut stem, which is the whole reason a florist keeps a cool room at two to four degrees. Tolmans Hill does that part for free. Two to three hundred metres above the CBD, the lounges up here run a couple of degrees cooler than the rest of the city for most of the year, and on a winter morning the upper blocks sit close to freezing before the heating comes on. A rose that gives a Brisbane kitchen four or five days gives a lounge on Hakea Drive twelve to fourteen. The same maths carries a lisianthus past a fortnight and keeps a tulip shut tight for days before it opens. Up here the climate works for your florist, not against.
The hard part is getting the flowers onto the island at all. Tasmania has no wholesale flower market, so most of the stems a florist here buys start at the Epping market in Melbourne, cross Bass Strait overnight on the ferry into Devonport, and come down by refrigerated road to the wholesaler at Kingston. A bit over half a day, all up, which leaves them a day older than a Melbourne florist's bucket on the same morning. The cool room at Kingston resets them and the altitude up the hill hands the day back, so a stem that left the mainland on a Tuesday is still going strong in a Tolmans Hill window the following week.
Where it goes wrong is the last metre. A bunch left on an open step on Hakea Drive at seven on a July morning sits in frost, the tissue traps the cold against the petals, and roses bruise on the thaw. None of that is the florist's doing and all of it is preventable. If nobody will be home until evening, say so in the order notes and name a porch or a covered side door. The driver will use it. I took plenty of calls blaming a florist for damage that happened after the flowers were already at the door. A safe-place line costs nothing and it saves the delivery.
Your order does not go to a warehouse. It goes to a workbench in the Hobart CBD, to a florist called True Colors who opened their own doors in 1991, the same year the council signed off on the Tolmans Hill subdivision. They were conditioning flowers off the Bass Strait ferry and running them up these hills before half the houses up here were even built. Same morning, same hands, then up the hill to the door.
* How it works. You order, we send it to a partner florist near Tolmans Hill, they build it and hand deliver. No post, no boxes.
The grid above sorts the what. This part is about the how, and up here the how has local edges, from the cemetery the whole city shares to the wards at Calvary down the road. Most orders to the hill are milestone birthdays, sympathy, and the quiet just-because deliveries, with a steady run of get-well to the hospital two kilometres away.
You have known the date for weeks. It is the morning of, nothing is organised, and the person turning eighty is up on the hill while you are not. The weight of it lands harder when the birthdays are the ones that feel like they count.
Order before 2pm on a weekday or 10am on a Saturday and it arrives that afternoon. Put the recipient's full name on it, and if the drive is steep or gated, the access note in the order field. For an 80th, or a 70th, in a settled home like these, the loud mixed bunch is rarely the right read.
I always steered the milestone orders toward pastels, not brights. Someone who has had flowers sent for fifty years has seen every loud arrangement there is. A lavender rose, a white Oriental lily, soft pinks: that is what reads as considered to an older eye. The interstate callers asking what to send their mother for a big birthday were among the most common I took, and the answer rarely changed. Colour they have to look at twice beats sheer volume every time.
Someone has died and you are not sure what is wanted, only that you want to mark it. Flowers are what arrives at the door when the words run out.
The first decision is where. Before the service, send to the funeral home. After it, send to the family home, where a quiet delivery a week on often lands harder than anything at the chapel, once the rush has gone and the house is empty. Sympathy flowers for the home work best in white and soft green, nothing that demands attention. A line as plain as "Thinking of your family" is enough on the card, and "I know how you feel" is the one to leave off.
The Hobart funerals I processed nearly all pointed the same way, out to Cornelian Bay, the cemetery the whole city has shared since the 1870s. Millingtons at Moonah and Mornington, and Graham Family at New Town, were the names on most of the orders. Two things caught callers out, and both still matter up here. A Greek Orthodox service wants a white wreath at the church rather than the house, and it needs to be there forty-five minutes to an hour before the family arrives, then again at forty days, three months, six months and a year. And chrysanthemums read as a funeral flower to a Chinese family, never a gift, which is why the white and yellow bunches people carry to Cornelian Bay at Qingming in April are right for the grave and wrong for a birthday. Settle the occasion before you settle on the flower. For a funeral the florist builds formal; for a secular farewell, and most up here are, native stems like banksia and leucadendron sit truer than a religious wreath.
No birthday, no loss, nothing on the calendar at all. Only the thought of someone in a quiet house up the hill, and the sense that it has been too long. Harder to act on than a date, that one, because nothing is forcing your hand.
A just-because delivery does not need to be grand. Soft pinks or pastels and a line that is honestly yours. For someone home all day in a big house on a hillside, a knock on a Tuesday afternoon can carry a whole week.
The just-because order is the hardest to get right because there is nothing to hide behind, no theme and no colour scheme handed to you by an event. What works is restraint. A few good stems in a soft palette, a vase so nobody has to go hunting for one, and flowers chosen to open in stages so the bunch keeps changing across the week instead of peaking on day two. It should look chosen, not grabbed, because that is the whole message of a no-reason delivery: I stopped, and I thought about you.
Someone you know is in Calvary St John's on Cascade Road, and you want to send something in without getting in the way. Flowers land at the ward, not the bedside, and that is exactly as it should be.
A few things make a hospital delivery actually work. In our florists' experience Calvary takes cut flowers on the general wards but not in intensive care, and not as a potted plant, and a box or vase arrangement beats a hand-tie because the ward has no spare vases to go hunting for. Address it with the full patient name and the ward number, and it travels reception, ward clerk, nursing staff, bedside, usually inside a few hours.
On the flower itself, our partner florist keeps the get-well arrangements scent-light on purpose. A strong Oriental lily in a shared ward is the quickest way to make an unwell person feel worse, and a pollen-free Asiatic variety gives the same look without the headache.
Order before 2pm on a weekday, or 10am Saturday, and it is at the door this afternoon.
Order the Stunning PinksThe Beautiful Pastels Bunch covers almost everything the hill throws up. Lavender roses and soft pink gerberas in a glass vase, ready to display, so the recipient does not need to find a vase or trim a thing. It photographs well in the light those elevated lounges get, and at 277 verified reviews on 4.5 stars the florists building it are clearly landing it consistently. If you genuinely cannot decide, this is the one.
For a while, winter deliveries to the hill suburbs were our weak spot, and the complaints all rhymed. A bunch left on an exposed step at eight in the morning, nobody home until dark, and by then the frost had been at the petals through the wrap. The buyer blamed the florist. The florist had built the arrangement right. The damage happened in the last metre, after the door, where neither of them was looking.
So we changed the order flow instead of the apology. Orders heading to the elevated suburbs around kunanyi now trip a prompt for a safe-place note before checkout, and on a hill address in winter the partner florist defaults to the covered spot rather than the front step unless you tell us otherwise. It is not a flourish. It is the one change that stopped the same complaint coming back every July.
1300 360 469
7am to 6pm weekdays
10am Saturdays
Or order online any time.
2pm weekdays, 10am Saturdays. No Sunday delivery. The hill is about ten minutes from town, so the florist has a short run once the arrangement is built. Sunday orders queue for Monday morning.
Flat rate, subsidised. A same-day hand delivery up here actually costs us more than $16.95. We wear the difference because a fixed price removes one more thing you have to weigh up.
Tolmans Hill homes sit on sloping blocks with steep drives, gated entries, and thick native bush between properties. If the address has restricted access or a long driveway, put the gate code or buzzer number in the order notes. The steepest streets, Pulchella Drive and upper Hillcrest Road, can need backing out of, and some Hakea Drive blocks run forty-plus steps from the drive to the door. The partner florist close to the area will call ahead where they can. If nobody answers, they leave the flowers at the safest sheltered spot with a note. In winter a covered entry beats an open doorstep, because frost settles on the wrap overnight and bruises petals. On Total Fire Ban days, access to elevated bush suburbs can be restricted, and the florist will contact you if there is a delay. Name a safe place and they will use it. Order before 2pm today and it is at their door this afternoon.
Once you have ordered, the florist picks it up and it moves quicker than you would think. They build it that morning from whatever came in freshest, and the hill is a short run from town, so afternoon drops usually land between one and five. You will not get a photo from the florist. The first you tend to hear that it went well is a call or a text from the person who received them, and the wait for that can feel longer than it is.
If something is not right, the number is 1300 360 469, seven to six on weekdays and from 10am Saturday, and [email protected] after that. We sort it ourselves.
I still ring the florist myself when an address looks tricky, and on the hill plenty of them do. A note that says leave at the front door is no help when the front door is forty steps up the slope from the drive. So the driver makes the call in the moment, the safest, most sheltered spot, and a note to say where it went. I would rather a bunch waited in a dry corner by the carport than froze against an open door for the afternoon. If you know the property, a line in the notes, a gate code, the easier side of the house, saves the guesswork.
Inside, the recipient should unwrap them within a couple of hours, trim the stems and get them into clean water with the sachet. In a lounge up here sitting at fifteen or sixteen degrees, they will outlast anything the mainland would expect.
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