Black ink flash sheet of around twenty small hand-drawn tree designs on a white background, in a simple botanical linework style.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Hand-drawn tree designs flash sheet

Botanical · Black and grey · Flash

The sheet shows around twenty small, separate drawings of stylised trees, mostly conifers and pines, scattered across a plain white background. Each tree uses different linework, including solid outlines, stippled dots, wavy strokes, horizontal hatching and radiating lines. The drawings are all in black ink with no colour, and the spacing between them is open and even.

Botanical Tree Conifer Branch Flash sheet

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Come closer to the fire, the lot of you, and mind the little one's toes. You want to know why old Hannah Crowe never cut the firs at the top of Long Acre, even when the timber men offered her a fair price and a new kettle besides? I'll tell you, though you'll not like the ending.

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Every tree up there was a different sort, and every one had been drawn by somebody's hand before it was ever planted. Her grandfather kept a tin box of paper cut-outs, little trees with feathery tops and stiff bare trunks, and he'd pin them on the back door each spring to tell the weather. One was a fir with its boughs like a comb, another a spruce with dots pricked all down its skirts. When the storm took the lane in '47, the cut-outs blew off the door and scattered across the bracken, and the trees they showed grew up wherever they landed, each one turning out exactly as drawn.

So Hannah walked the hill every morning with a pocket of ink and a bent nib, counting the ones that had come up true. She found a straight-branched pine beside the well, a fountain of lines near the stile, a sapling with a wild wavy crown that hummed when the wind came through. Thirty-one trees in all. Thirty-one of them she had watched grow from paper.

On the last morning of the year, the timber men came, and the youngest of them laughed at her little tin box. He lifted the axe toward the stiffest fir. Hannah only said, quietly, that the tree had a name in her grandfather's hand, and he could read it himself if he liked. He could not. The rest of the story is that he never lifted the axe again.