Colour tattoo of lavender sprigs, red flowers and green grass in a painterly botanical style on the inner forearm near the wrist.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Lavender and wildflowers on a forearm

Botanical · Forearm · Colour · Photo

A tattoo of lavender stems, pink-red blossoms, orange dots and green grass wraps up the forearm towards the wrist. The purple lavender is shaded softly, while black ink splashes and fine dark stems give the arrangement a loose, brushed feel. The left panel shows the full arm against a dark grey wall, and the right panel is a close crop of the lavender and flowers.

Botanical Forearm Lavender Flower Wildflower Grass Sprig Blossom Stem

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Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The lavender had gone over in the back field, so I was out there at half four with the secateurs and a torch clamped in my teeth, cutting stems I could smell before I could see them. Dad used to do this job. His knees gave out before his opinions did, and now the field was mine, along with the ovens, the ledger and the recipe book with its cracked green spine.

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By five the kitchen smelled of butter and cut grass. I rubbed the buds into the sugar for the shortbread, grated orange peel over the bowl, and set aside a jar of rosehip jam for the Saturday buns. Mrs Okafor came in the side door at ten past six, stamping the dew off her boots, and asked why I looked like I'd been arguing with a hedge. I told her the hedge had won.

The recipe book lay open on the flour bin. Dad's handwriting ran down the page in fountain pen, and beside the lavender line was a blot the size of a thumbprint, where he had once lifted the nib too late and let the ink run into the sugar. I had meant to copy the page out clean. Instead I left it, because it was the only part of the book that looked made by someone in a hurry.

At twenty to seven I opened the oven. The first tray came out pale and a little uneven, the edges sugared. I set it on the rack by the window, where the sky had turned from ink to milk, and watched the first light catch the purple crumbs as if someone had scattered them there on purpose.