Colourful falling leaves tattoo in a botanical style across the upper back, curving over the shoulder blade.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Falling autumn leaves across a back

Botanical · Back · Colour · Photo

A drifting trail of leaves runs diagonally across the upper back, including an oak leaf in purple and brown, a green leaf, an orange and brown maple-style leaf, and a teal feather-like leaf. Smaller pink, yellow and violet leaves sit among solid black silhouette leaves and dots. The outlines are defined and the colour is flat and bright against the skin, with the design spreading from the upper left towards the lower right.

Botanical Back Leaves Maple leaf Feather Autumn

Find an artist for this

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 wind came off the Clee Hills the morning after Dad's funeral and took every leaf off the oak in the top field at once, as if someone had pulled a sheet off a bed. I was at the gate with a bucket of feed for the ewes that had lambed early. I watched the leaves cross the yard in a loose line, rust and purple and that bright green the sycamore keeps for about a fortnight, skating over the frozen puddles towards the lane.

Keep reading

Tom said it was a sign. Tom said most things were a sign once he had read about them on his phone. He ran out in his socks and tried to catch a rust-coloured one spinning above the water trough, missed, swore, and then laughed at himself. I told him the oak never drops its leaves before March, and he said that was what I used to say about the bank too.

We had kept some of them all autumn, Dad and I, pressing the best ones inside the milk ledger because he said it was the only book in the house that got opened. Each leaf had a date and a field name beside it in his square capitals. Tom had carried the ledger off to Mum's flat in Ludlow with the rest of the boxes, and I had not asked for it back.

I swung the gate wide. The leaves went through it one after another and down the lane towards the brook, where the alders would catch them and the frost would finish the job, and I did not go after them. Tom came back with his hands empty and his socks wet through. Leave them, I said, and we stood there in the cold while the lane took them.