Black ink line drawing of a pine tree, crescent moon, tent and campfire with smoke curls on white paper, shown as a fine line design with no body part visible.

Camping scene with pine, moon and campfire

Fine line · Black and grey · Flash

A simple camping scene drawn in black ink on textured white paper. A tall pine tree stands on the left, a crescent moon sits above a small tent, and a campfire with stones and rising smoke curls sits on the right, all resting on a single ground line. The linework is thin and even with no shading, and the image contains no colour.

Fine line Pine tree Crescent moon Tent Campfire Smoke Camping

Find an artist for this

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

Right, sit down nearer the bench, Maud, and mind the ivy, it has no manners. My grandmother's father kept the lamp at the top of the Carrow Fell road, and every autumn he'd walk the sheep down past the gate at Hollin Edge. One year the weather turned on him early, and he found himself caught out with a lad of nine who wouldn't stop asking if the stars were holes.

Keep reading

They made their camp under the one big pine that stood alone above the beck, the only tree for a mile that the wind hadn't bent. He pitched the little tent with the flap tied back, because the boy wanted to see the sky, and he built the fire in a ring of six round stones from the beck bed. The smoke went up straight as a string, the way it does when the air is still and cold enough to hold it. He told the boy that smoke is only the fire's way of writing letters to the sky, and the boy said, then what does it say, and my great-grandad said, mostly that it's hungry.

The moon came up thin as a paring over the fell, and they ate their bacon and watched it grow fatter by the minute, or so the boy swore. Near midnight the fire settled to a red mutter. The lad was asleep with his head on a folded coat, and the pine above him shivered once, and dropped a single cone into the ashes with a crack like a pistol. My great-grandad only smiled and let it burn. He said the tree was paying for the wood.