Black and grey botanical tattoo of hibiscus, plumeria and daisy-like flowers with leaves forming a crown, with a curved black line beneath, on an upper arm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Hibiscus and plumeria flower crown on an upper arm

Botanical · Upper arm · Black and grey · Photo

The tattoo shows hibiscus blooms, plumeria flowers and a daisy-like flower arranged in a crown, with long leaves curving down either side. The linework is bold and clean, with shading and stippling in the petals and leaves, and a solid curved black band sits below the flowers. The image is entirely black and grey, and the design fills the centre of the frame against blue denim jeans.

Botanical Upper arm Hibiscus Plumeria Flower Leaves Daisy Flower crown Line

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Mrs Ada Pell had kept the boarding house on Marlow Terrace for thirty-one years, and in all that time nobody had ever carried a cake stand down to the sea wall. So when the Harcourt sisters came up the steps on the first warm Tuesday of June, one of them balancing a crate of cuttings from a Penzance glasshouse, Ada took it as a sign the season would go badly.

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The crate held hibiscus, pale plumeria taken from a cousin's greenhouse, and a single daisy the younger sister swore grew only where somebody had been unhappy. They spent the afternoon stripping leaves in the back kitchen, binding stems with garden twine, and arguing about whether a crown should sit flat or tilt like a hat at a wedding. Ada watched from the scullery door and said nothing, because the older sister, Marion, was cutting the long leaves in one clean sweep and humming something with a wobble in it.

They wore the crown to the pier on the Saturday. The wind came round off the Channel and tugged at the petals, and a fishmonger's boy whistled until Marion turned and gave him a look that made him drop his barrow. By evening the flowers had gone soft and brown at the edges, and Lily pressed what was left between the pages of Ada's guest register, a black band of ribbon tied round the spine to keep it shut.

On Sunday night Ada opened the register and found the flowers flat and faintly sweet against a page dated 1952. She did not throw them out. Beneath the last name she wrote: Harcourt, two, one crown, paid in full.