Dandelion Star Seed

If I have to pick one plant that embodies childhood, love, optimism, wishes, and bittersweet loss, it is the dandelion. They evoke carefree summer days with bright yellow pollen-covered noses. The joy of finding the perfect, round, fluffy white head that might let you blow every seed off in one breath. Guaranteed wishes come true.

The geometric beauty of the seeds is a fleeting perfection. One that only develops after the flower has died. A gentle breeze, and that moment is gone. But the imperfection means a new dandelion might be flying in the wind.

Or it might not.

Every seed won't grow rooted in the ground. I like to imagine that those seeds are borne ever further upward. Those seeds are the wishes.

Some people face the loss of a life that barely touched earth. I've never had to endure the grief of miscarriage or losing a young one. But I am a mother. I spent many nights watching my babies sleep, imagining how destroyed I would be in a world without them. Every breath they took was a relief. Every pause that seemed too long in between was an anxiety.

These paintings are for the seeds destined to be stars. In honor of every young life lost too soon.