Black and grey botanical tattoo of wildflowers, buds and leaves with roots, shaded in fine lines, on the middle of a person's back.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Black and grey wildflower sprig on the back

Botanical · Back · Black and grey · Photo

A sprig of wild flowers grows from a root cluster, with open blooms, closed buds, serrated leaves and trailing stems arranged in an upward, branching shape. The linework is fine and precise, with soft grey shading inside the petals and leaves to give them depth. The design is entirely black and grey and sits centred on smooth skin against a grey top.

Botanical Fine line Back Wildflower Flower Bud Leaves Root Plant Stem

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Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Dear Nell, the cart went over at Harrow Mill and the jar of seed heads is somewhere in the ditch, so you will have to take my word for what I found instead. It was a sprig of something with no name in Father's book, growing out of the stones by the lock gate where nobody thinks to look. Its roots were bound up in a clot of wet clay, and I tried to keep them whole as I dug, because you cannot tell what a plant is from its flowers alone. The blooms were the pale grey of a rain-spotted window, and the leaves cut themselves into small saw-toothed hands, as if they had been warned about touching.

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The lock-keeper's boy said it was called Tuesday's tongue, which is nonsense, but I wrote it down anyway. He said the buds only open when someone is about to leave, and the open flowers fold shut on the ones who stay. I laughed at him. Then I noticed that three of the buds on my specimen had split overnight, and I have been careful since not to count them.

I have pressed the sprig between the pages of Father's almanac, roots and all, which I know he would hate. The almanac is for the Michaelmas fair, where I am to sell tinctures from the back of the wagon. Mr Crane has offered a shilling a bottle, and he says wild things always sell best if they come with a story. I have given him the tongue story. He wants a better one.

Come to the fair on Saturday and bring your gloves. I will keep the best bloom for you, though I cannot promise it will still be open when you arrive.