Colour botanical tattoo of an iris, roses, a bleeding heart and an orange poppy running down a woman's thigh, with green leaves.

Iris, rose and poppy thigh tattoo

Botanical · Thigh · Colour · Photo

A purple iris, pink and red roses, dangling bleeding hearts and an orange poppy bud and bloom are arranged on a thigh, with green leaves and a sprig of dark berries. The linework is fine and the petals are shaded with soft gradients, giving a painterly, naturalistic finish. The flowers climb diagonally from the lower leg toward the upper thigh, and the woman's hands hold a navy dress to one side.

Botanical Thigh Iris Rose Poppy Flower Leaves Blackberry Berry

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The rain has been coming sideways down Brindle Street since six, and by nine the tarpaulins over the flower stalls sag like wet sails. You have stood the bleeding hearts in a bucket of cold water because they wilt in the wrong light, and your aunt Vera has already told you twice that nobody buys flowers in weather like this. You tell her the irises are the only thing she grew that the rain has not ruined.

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A man in a yellow cagoule stops at the stall and asks for something for his mother, something that will not look like a funeral. You pick out three stems of purple iris, a fistful of pink roses still shut tight, and one orange poppy bud from the back row, the one you had been saving for yourself. He pays in coppers and soggy notes. You wrap the stems in brown paper and tell him to keep the heads out of the wind.

By eleven the market is nearly empty. Vera counts the takings into the tin and catches the bus home. You stay behind, sweeping blackberry leaves and crushed petals off the wet cobbles, and you notice the tarpaulin has turned the light the colour of a bruise, blue softening to violet over the empty crates.

The man comes back at closing time, rain dripping from his hood, and sets the parcel on the counter. The roses have opened in the damp, and the irises lean towards the bucket as if they are listening. He says his mother wants to know who grew them. You tell him the truth: nothing in this city grows without a little stubbornness and a great deal of rain. He laughs, and for once the weather seems to be on your side.