Colour cherry blossom tattoo with black branches and falling petals across the back of a hand and wrist, in a soft botanical style.

Cherry blossom tree on the back of a hand

Botanical · Hand · Colour · Photo

A cherry blossom tree grows from the wrist up across the back of the hand, with dark branches and clusters of pink and red blossoms. Fine dark linework defines the branches and petals, while soft washes of pink, red and yellow give the flowers a painted, watercolour-like look. The tree's trunk fades out at the wrist, and a few loose petals drift near the thumb and fingers against a background of dark red hair and a red top.

Botanical Hand Cherry blossom Tree Branch Petal Flower

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The blossom came down the valley in the third week of April, the year the ferry stopped running to Haldane Point. Nobody on the island could say who had planted the cherry trees along the old wall, only that they had been there longer than the lighthouse and that the honey made from their flowers was the only sweet thing anyone bought at the summer market. Marit Coll had sold that honey for thirty years from a trestle table by the harbour steps, and she knew the blossom fell in a particular order: first the pale stuff at dawn, then the pink, then the red-edged petals that the wind carried off to sea like messages nobody had asked for.

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Her grandson Tam came up from the boats with a bucket of mackerel and found her on her knees in the wet grass, filling a jar with fallen petals. He asked her what she wanted them for. She said she was keeping a record of which ones had been bruised by the gulls, because the bruised ones made the bitterest honey and she wanted to warn the bees. Tam laughed and called her a witch, and she told him that witches were only women who had outlived the sensible people who might have stopped them.

That evening she walked the wall to the far corner, where the old tree leaned over the cliff path with its roots half out of the rock. She had not been out there since her husband went into the sea. Under the branches the light came through red and gold, and the petals settled on her wrist and the back of her hand like something deciding to stay. She stood until the bees went home. Then she tipped the jar out over the edge and watched the colour go, and went back down to the harbour with her hands empty and her knuckles pink.