Pink cherry blossom flowers with black centres and red leaves on a forearm, in a soft watercolour style.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Cherry blossom flowers on a forearm

Botanical · Forearm · Colour · Photo

Two pink cherry blossom flowers with black stamens and small yellow dots sit on a forearm, with a red leaf curving beneath them. The petals are softly shaded with pale pink washes, and the leaves have darker red accents that give a watercolour effect. Colour ink dominates against a plain, lightly lit background, with a metal wristwatch visible above the tattoo.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Sit closer to the grate, all of you, and mind the candle, for Mrs Oddy's boots have been steaming since the coach came in. The pass has shut twice this winter already, and I have told you the one about the miller's wife more often than she deserves. Tonight you will have the cherry trees instead, because they were in bloom the morning the snow began, and that is the only way I know to tell it.

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Up at the high orchard above Saltcote stood two trees planted by a widow named Hester Vane, who swore they would flower together or not at all. Every spring the pink came out along their branches, one bloom, then two, then a whole cloud of them, and the wind carried the petals down the lane in a drift that caught on the gate and the hedgerow. Hester liked to walk through it with her apron full, counting the stamens, which she said were always dotted with gold like sugar on a loaf.

The year the snow came early, a surveyor named Tobias Crane walked up the lane with a letter that said the orchard was to be cut for the new turnpike. Hester read it at her table, folded it small, and put the kettle on. She gave him bread and nettle tea and asked him to look at the trees before he decided anything. He stayed three days. On the third morning a thaw had crept in, the blossoms were out in the frost, and he sat on the wall with his measuring chain in his lap and could not make himself stand up.

The road went round the orchard in the end, and it still bends there, though the coachmen grumble about it. Tobias never did return to the city. Some say he kept the letter in his coat, others that he fed it to Hester's grate. What I know is that the red leaves were still falling when he left, and the lane was pink to the gate. Now, Mrs Oddy, your tea has gone cold, and the snow is settling on the step, which is how I know the story is finished.

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