Colourful botanical bouquet of roses, lilies and small wildflowers on the outer upper arm of a woman wearing a white vest top.

Floral bouquet on upper arm

Botanical · Upper arm · Colour · Photo

A woman in a white vest top shows a bouquet of flowers on her upper arm, cropped at the chin so only the lower face is visible. The design includes pink and red roses, a lily-like bloom, yellow flowers and small blue blossoms, with green leaves and stems arranged in a rounded cluster. The shading is soft and the palette is bright and multicoloured against the pale skin, with a plain light background.

Botanical Upper arm Bouquet Rose Flower Lily Wildflower Leaves

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Brother Edwin had been ordered twice to finish the margins of the Lenten psalter before Lauds on Thursday, and twice he had ignored the order to paint a rose again instead. The first had bled into the vellum where he pressed too hard with the brush. The second sat beside Psalm 51, deep pink at the heart and paler at the edge, the way the roses grew against the south wall of the infirmary garden in June.

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Prior Osric came down the cloister with his hands folded in his sleeves and stopped at the lectern. He studied the page for a long time. "The abbot wants a plain border," he said. "Vines, a little gold, nothing that will make the novices stare."

"Plain is what I'm doing, Father." Edwin dipped his brush in the lake pot and wiped it on the rag at his belt. "The garden is full of plain things. Lily, cornflower, that yellow weed the goats won't touch. Every one of them is a word the psalmist never needed to write down."

The prior bent closer. He smelled of wax and cold stone. For a moment Edwin thought he would take the pen away, but instead the old man reached past him and touched the lily, its petals flared like a small flame. "My mother grew this," he said, "in a clay pot on a window ledge in Lincoln, before the house was sold." He said nothing more.

Edwin finished the cornflowers that afternoon, then the small blue heads tucked into the corners of the cluster. When the bell rang for Vespers he left the page open to dry. When he came back, a single yellow bloom had appeared in the margin beneath his own, unsigned, painted with a hand that shook. Neither of them mentioned it again, and the abbot never saw the page at all.