Colour botanical tattoo of a flower bouquet on a calf, featuring a pink peony, purple lisianthus, crocus, poppy and red berries in a Botanical style.

Botanical flower bouquet on a calf

Botanical · Calf · Colour · Photo

A bouquet of flowers runs up the lower leg, with a large pink peony at the base, purple lisianthus and crocus blooms above, and a peach poppy on the left. Sprigs of red berries, seed pods and green leaves fill the gaps. The linework is fine and dark, with soft, layered shading that gives the petals a watercolour-like depth, and the image is shot outdoors against a blurred background.

Botanical Calf Flower Bouquet Peony Poppy Berry Seed pod Leaves

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

You have been carrying the flowers since the tram stopped at the seafront, and the brown paper has gone soft where your thumb keeps pressing it. The band is tuning up behind the double doors of the Pavilion, a trumpet cracking on the same note again and again. The bouquet is wrong for the month. The crocuses came from the frosted bed behind the vicarage in February, the peonies from Mrs Dunning's south wall in June, and the lisianthus from a barrow in Ramsgate, because nobody in Kent grows them outdoors and you wanted to show Ellen you had tried.

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She is at the cloakroom counter with one glove off, not looking up. You set the bundle on the sill between a bowl of brass hooks and a card advertising Thursday's whist drive. She says the poppies will drop their petals before the interval. You say the seed pods will keep, that you dried them yourself in the airing cupboard. She laughs, the first real laugh you have had from her in a month, and takes the red berries out of the middle and pins them to the lapel of your jacket without asking.

By the second waltz the room is hot with breath and cheap scent, and Ellen has tucked a crocus behind her ear. It is already closing, the way crocuses do in warmth, folding its purple shut like a fist. She notices before you do and says nothing about it. You dance with her anyway, badly, while the seed pod you kept back rattles in your inside pocket against every turn, a small dry sound you can hear over the brass.