Full colour tattoo across a person's upper back showing a blossoming tree split between a night scene with moon and aurora on the left and a sunset with red sun on the right.

Day and night landscape with blossom tree on back

Botanical · Back · Colour · Photo

A large circular colour tattoo covers the upper back, with a blossoming tree and exposed roots at its centre. The left half shows a moonlit mountain, pine trees and an aurora, while the right half shows an orange sunset over water with a red sun and a small flower at the base. Soft blended shading and bright, saturated colour run throughout, and the design fills most of the frame.

Botanical Back Tree Moon Sun Mountain Pine tree Sunset Water Blossom Root Landscape Flower

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Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The old Bramley at the bottom of Hollin's orchard had been split down the middle since before my father was born, and by the last week of August it looked like two trees that had agreed to share a trunk and little else. On the east side the branches still carried blossom, pink and stubborn, the wrong flower for the season. On the west side the fruit had already dropped and lay gone soft in the grass, where the wasps worked it and the hens wouldn't go near.

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My grandfather grafted the blossoming half in 1961, after a hard frost took the original limb and he refused to lose the variety. He told me once that a tree keeps two calendars if you ask it nicely. I thought he was being a poet, which he never was. He spent his evenings out there with a flask of tea and a penknife, scoring bark and binding it with raffia, and he never said who had taught him that.

This year it was my turn with the ladder. My sister Ruth wanted the lot sold to the cider press in Ledbury, but I climbed up on the dark side at half eight, when the moon came over the hedge pale as a plate. The sun was still sinking behind the cider barn, and for a minute I stood in both at once, one hand on a limb in shadow and the other in the last orange light, the blossom brushing my wrist with petals that smelt sweet and slightly wrong.

I picked three apples, the rotten ones and one sound one, and left them on the wall. Ruth can have the press. The tree can keep its two calendars, and I'll come back at dawn to see which half it chooses to keep.