Black ink flash drawing of a botanical sprig with large open flowers, buds and leaves, in a dotwork and fine line style, on a pale background.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Botanical flower sprig drawing in black ink

Botanical · Black and grey · Flash

A pen drawing of a sprig of flowers with three large open blooms, smaller buds and several leaves on thin stems. The outlines are fine and even, with stippled dots shading the petals and centres. The design is drawn in black ink on a pale background, with a black marker pen visible on the right edge.

Botanical Dotwork Flower Petal Leaves Bud Stem Sprig Branch

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The rain had been coming sideways off the canopy since eight, and by eleven Edie Sharrow had given up on the buckets. She stood under the tarp at the end of Cotton Row, wiping ink off her fingers onto a rag, and watched the water run in grey ribbons between the cobbles. Her stall held nothing but cut stems now: three bunches of anemones gone soft at the edges, a jug of sweet peas, and the sprig she had drawn the night before, pinned to the board with a clothes peg.

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Her nephew Kit had been at the pen all week, scribbling on receipts and anything else he could reach, and she had made the sprig to keep him quiet. Three open blooms, their petals stippled dark at the centres, two buds still shut tight, and leaves strung along stems so fine a breath would bend them. Dennis from the fishmonger's had squinted at it that morning and asked whether it was a rose. Edie had told him no, it was whatever the pen wanted it to be.

A woman in a yellow mac stopped at the stall, shaking water from a folded umbrella. She wanted something for a windowsill that never saw sun. Edie wrapped a pot of primroses in newspaper, then, without quite deciding to, unpinned the drawing and tucked it in beside the pot. "Your own?" the woman asked. "Practice," said Edie. "Something to keep the hands busy when the trade's this thin."

When the woman had gone, Edie counted the coins into the tin and found the marker's cap lying on the board where Kit had left it. She pushed it onto the pen, slid the pen into her apron pocket, and turned the empty peg over in her fingers. The rain kept on. Tomorrow she would draw another, and the ink would still be wet when the market opened.