Colour botanical tattoo of a pink cherry blossom branch wrapping over the upper arm and shoulder of a person in a white polka dot top.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Cherry blossom branch on an upper arm

Botanical · Upper arm · Colour · Photo

A branch of pink cherry blossoms with dark grey stems and small green buds spreads across the upper arm and onto the shoulder. The flowers have soft red and pink shading with darker centres, and the leaves and stems are outlined in dark ink. The photograph is taken at close range with the tattoo filling most of the frame, with a white top and strap visible at the edge.

Botanical Upper arm Shoulder Cherry blossom Branch Flower Petal Bud Leaves Stem

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Dear Nell,

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The relief boat came in on Tuesday with the spring stores, and tucked between the paraffin and the tinned peaches was a branch of cherry blossom in a paper sleeve. Mr Halloran at the harbour swears it came from the Pickering girl's garden in Ardnish, the one with the wall that faces the sea. He says she sent it for you, though she never once spoke to either of us. I have put it in the blue jug on the chart table, and the whole kitchen smells faintly of honey and rain.

You will laugh at me, but I have been counting the petals. There are forty-one open and six still tight as knuckles. The stems are dark, almost black where they bend, and the buds at the tips are the green of the lamp-room rail after a wash. I cannot make the blossom stay put. Every time the wind comes round the point, another petal lets go and drops on the oilcloth like a little pink coin.

Keep the lamp trimmed, Dad used to say, and the ships will find you. I have trimmed it every night since Ewan went across to the mainland for his chest, and I have not once looked out at the water and wished it would take me off the rock. Tonight I did look. The sea was pale as skimmed milk and the blossom was nodding in its jug, and I thought, somebody thought of me, and that was enough to keep my hands steady on the wick.

Come up in the summer. Bring your bad temper and I will bring the good scissors. We can cut the branch and see what the bark is hiding.

Yours, Mags