Colour cherry blossom branch tattoo with pink flowers, buds and dark stems running across the ribs and side of a torso, in a botanical style.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Cherry blossom branch tattoo across the ribs

Botanical · Ribs · Colour · Photo

A branch of cherry blossom with pink five-petalled flowers, buds and dark brown stems curves diagonally across the ribs and side of the torso. The petals and leaves are shaded with soft tonal gradients, and a few loose pink petals appear to drift around the edges of the design. Bright pink and red flowers dominate the composition against the warm skin tones, with the branch flowing from the lower back towards the chest.

Botanical Ribs Cherry blossom Branch Flower Petal Leaves Bud

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Mags cut the branch on the last Sunday of January, when frost had Hollin Brow white to the stone walls and the beasts were fed by half seven. She took the secateurs from the nail by the back door and went down to the old cherry at the bottom of the top field, the one her father planted the spring before he married, and chose a limb low enough to reach without the ladder.

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Her brother Danny thought it daft. He stood in the yard with his breath smoking and said the tree would sulk, and it would be spring before anything came out of it anyway. She carried the cutting up under her coat with the cut end wrapped in wet newspaper, and stood it in the blue glass jug on the kitchen windowsill beside the paraffin heater, where the range kept the room close enough to sweat.

For a week nothing happened. Then on the Thursday, while Danny was out at the feed shed, a bud split along its seam and showed a pale pink edge, and by the Sunday there were five flowers open on the lower twigs, each with its five neat petals, as if someone had drawn them with a fine nib. Mags stopped doing the accounts to watch them, and a few petals loosened and dropped onto the oilcloth like confetti from a wedding nobody had asked her to.

When the thaw came in March she carried the jug back down the field and set it on the wall by the old tree, the twigs bare now and the flowers gone brown at the edges. A petal lifted in the wind and went spinning off across the frozen furrows. She tipped the water into the ditch and watched one more petal turn on the surface and drift towards the beck, pink against the black water, and then she went back up to the house to put the kettle on.