Black and white fine line flash sheet of rosemary, lavender and other herb sprigs, held up by a person whose face is out of frame.

Fine line herb sprigs flash sheet

Fine line · Black and grey · Flash

A sheet of paper shows about twenty fine line drawings of herb sprigs, including rosemary, lavender and sage, arranged in a loose grid. The linework is thin and even, with small hatching on some leaves and flower heads, and there is no colour or shading beyond the ink. A person holds the sheet at chest height, with the face cropped out of frame.

Fine line Botanical Lavender Herb Sprig Leaves Flower Botanical

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The snow had closed the pass for nine days when Marta Corran began drawing herbs on the back of the inn's bill of fare, because there was nothing else to draw on and her hands would not sit still. The landlord's wife, Ysolde, had come down from the attic with a bundle of stalks tied in string and laid them on the kitchen table without a word. Rosemary for the mutton, lavender for the linen, sage for the goose, and a sprig of something Marta did not know, which Ysolde said was for remembering.

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Marta drew them all. She drew the rosemary twice, once the way it grew by the north wall and once the way it hung upside down from a beam. She drew the sage with its leaves spread like open hands, and the lavender in a little fist of buds. The guests came down to the fire and turned the pages over, asking whether the inn sold seeds, and the carter's boy said the drawings were too small to eat.

On the ninth night the bread ran short and the guests grew cross. Ysolde took the sheet from Marta, studied the tiny sprigs for a long while, then sent the boy out into the drift with a lantern and a list of herbs. He came back with frost in his eyebrows and a sack of dried leaves that matched, stalk for stalk, the lines on the page. They brewed them into a broth, and the whole house slept through until morning.

In spring the carter came back over the pass and found the sheet still pinned above the hearth, its ink gone soft at the corners. Beneath each sprig Ysolde had written the day it was needed, and under the sage, in a smaller hand, the name of the boy who had gone out with the lantern.