Fine line botanical tattoo of wildflowers and leaves running along the inner forearm near the wrist, shown in three stacked photographs.

Fine line wildflower sprig on a forearm

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

Three stacked photographs show the same forearm with a delicate sprig of wildflowers, including a feathery umbel-style flower head, slender stems and narrow leaves. The linework is thin and light, with soft grey shading and no solid fills. The ink is muted and greyish, set against pale skin and a light textured background, and the design runs diagonally from the wrist towards the elbow.

Fine line Botanical Forearm Wildflower Sprig Leaves Stem Seed head Foliage

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The umbel had come up through the ballast at the foot of Platform Two sometime in June, and by the second week of September it stood taller than the lamp post, its flat heads gone to a brown lace that rattled whenever the 14:12 came through. Nell Ashdown had been counting them every morning since the notice went up on the signal box door. Contractors were coming on the Monday to lift the sleeper ends and widen the drainage cut, and the form from the works said vegetation would be removed.

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She took the seed heads in an old Bourbon biscuit tin, one umbel at a time, snipping each stalk with the scissors she kept for trimming lamp wicks. Her father had taught her that every plant on the railway had a route out of it if you let it finish. Dock went by the wind, thistle by the draught of the trains, and this one, he said, travelled on the boots of anyone who stood still long enough beside it. She had never quite believed him, but she liked the idea of it going on regardless.

On Saturday the stationmaster's nephew, Kwame, who was learning to drive the trolley, found her kneeling by the drain with the tin open on her knee. He looked at the stems for a long time and then asked whether it would grow in a flower bed. She said it would grow anywhere it was left alone, which was not quite an answer, and he laughed and said he would bring a spade on Monday, though only for the edge.

On Monday the contractors cut the verge back to bare stone, all except a strip of umbel no wider than a hand, which Kwame had pegged off with orange string. Nell watched the 14:12 pass over the ballast and throw a cloud of seed across the new cutting. By Christmas, she thought, there would be something green at the edge of it, and nobody on the platform would be able to say whose idea it had been.