Small fine line black and grey dandelion with drifting seeds tattooed on the inner wrist and lower forearm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Dandelion seeds tattoo on the wrist

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A small dandelion seed head with seeds drifting upward is tattooed on the inner wrist and lower forearm of a person holding a brown leather bag handle. The linework is fine and delicate, with the seed head shaded in grey and the drifting seeds drawn as small dots and short strokes. The black and grey ink stands out against a cream knit sweater and a star-print skirt, with a softly blurred outdoor background.

Fine line Botanical Forearm Dandelion Seed Wind Flower

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Brother Edwin had been told to strip the infirmary meadow before Vespers, because the prior wanted the seed heads bagged for the herbal's new binding. He knelt among the clocks with a linen sack and a pair of shears, but the wind off the fen kept taking the first few before he could reach them. By the third row his habit was soaked at the knees, and the sack held nothing but one bent stalk.

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Brother Anselm came down the path from the infirmary step, a bread knife in one hand and a loaf in the other. He watched for a while. "You're cutting them like a man who's afraid of them," he said. Edwin said the prior wanted them gathered. Anselm said the prior had not blown a dandelion in forty years, and that a seed head could only be counted once, by whoever was willing to let it go.

Edwin sat back on his heels. He thought of the egg-seller's girl from the village, who came each spring to the gate with her basket and once blew a clock apart on the lane, laughing as the seeds went over the wall and into the reeds. He thought of the ledger in the cellarer's room, and of how little the ledger had ever said about anything that mattered. He tipped the sack out onto the grass and left the shears lying beside it.

He went to the wall and blew the last clock, hard, the way the girl had. The seeds lifted in a loose, wavering line, catching the low sun, and rose over the abbey roof toward the road where the egg cart would be coming in the morning. Anselm said nothing behind him, but he took off his cap and held it against his chest, and the bell began for Vespers.