Art / Writing / Folk Magic

Elsie de Wolfe
About
My name is Juniper Irén Blomberg (she/her). I was born and raised in the San Juan Islands and believe in the necessity of story and the magic of tea and the nourishment that can be drawn from both. I believe in my ancestors, in the natural world, in honesty, and in love. I work in the alchemy of creativity, which appears most frequently in the form of fine art, folk craft, and the written word. My alchemical and creative practice is in deep relationship with place, the link between past and future, the feminine, and the folk. Through my work, I endeavor to share the gold of these relationships in a way that supports a nourishing future— one that we can all thrive in.
You can get in touch with me by emailing juniper.iren@gmail.com

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Why Scatterseed Remembrance?
“Scatterseed” is another word for Dandelion, one that I first heard in the Lost Words: Spell Songs project by Robert Macfarlane, Jackie Morris, Karine Powlart, Julie Fowlis, Seckou Keita, Kris Drever, Kerry Andrew, Rachel Newton, Beth Porter, and Jim Molyneux.
Dandelions inspire me for many reasons. First, I love their deep roots and tenacity. They can be found growing nearly anywhere, even between blocks of concrete. They are experts at ruining the toxic dream of perfect green lawns. (You can try to dig them up, but broken roots will clone a new plant, and their multitude of seed are sure to settle somewhere). They reclaim that which has been taken (garden yards turned to manicured lawns) and refuse to stop shining their sunny faces and tufty heads. And speaking of tufty heads— do you remember blowing those seeds to make a wish when you were little? Like birthday candles, loose eyelashes, and shooting stars, there is a wishing magic that we place on dandelion’s seed heads. Dandelion is medicinal too— aiding in digestion, detoxifying, and being diuretic to name a few actions. I believe we’ve got a lot to learn from our plant relatives, and the qualities of Dandelion- or Scatterseed- seemed of special relevance both to my endeavors and of the tough medicine that is being called for in these times of change.
The Language of Flowers & Victorian Flower Dictionary (book by Victoria Diffenbaugh and dictionary by Mandy Kirby) were formative and inspiring during crucial years of my adolescence, and continue to be so. In choosing a title for my online work, I wanted to pay homage both to the importance of this language in my history, and to the magic of a floral language. In Mandy Kirby’s dictionary, Dandelion (Taraxacum officinale) means “rustic oracle.” I love this internal message. According to Merriam-Webster dictionary, the word “rustic” (adj) means; of, relating to, or suitable for the country, made of the rough limbs of trees, finished by rusticating (a rustic joint in masonry), characteristic of or resembling country people, lacking in social graces or polish, and appropriate to the country (as in plainness or sturdiness). I like these meanings in description of oracle because oracle (especially internal oracle/intuition, as I’ve experienced it), is often rough hewn, classically imperfect, and having to do with the natural world. “Oracle” (n) is defined by Merriam-Webster as a person giving wise or authoritative decisions or opinions (among other definitions). I like the concept of an oracle here, especially a rustic one, because I feel that the rough hewn wisdom that exists outside of definitive centuries is a tonic that our hasty growing pains call for.
I chose to use the name “Scatterseed” instead of “Dandelion” to refer to Taraxacum officinale because it captures more of the hopeful and joyful qualities that the plant embodies, and the hopeful and joyful qualities that I am endeavoring to embody. And I love the fantastical ring of it.
I chose “remembrance” because that is what I am endeavoring to do through ink and beauty. I am endeavoring to facilitate the remembrance of internal rustic oracles, and to facilitate a space for nourishing and sustainable remembrance of the wisdom of our ancestors. Re-integrating the past into our present, but not all of it, mind you. That selection is another reason that this remembrance is best described by “scatterseed”— it is the seeds of wisdom from the past, scattered out across our present to take root and grow into the future.
Recent Work





