Fine line colour tattoo of two purple lavender sprigs with green stems and leaves on the lower leg, in the Botanical style.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Lavender sprig on a lower leg

Fine line · Calf · Colour · Photo

A slender lavender stem with two flower spikes and a few small green leaves runs vertically across the skin. The linework is very fine, and the purple flowers are shaded with soft gradients while the stems and leaves are drawn in light green. The tattoo sits centrally against plain pale skin, with a dark fabric sleeve visible at the top of the frame.

Fine line Botanical Calf Lavender Flower Stem Leaves Sprig

Find an artist for this

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

Sit down, sit, and mind the goat, she has opinions about your shoes. Now. You want to know about the purple stuff on the hill above Kalyra? That is lavender, and it grew there because the old men said it would keep the bad wind off the harbour, and the old men were usually right about wind and wrong about nearly everything else.

Keep reading

Eleni Vrachou kept a stall at the bottom of the steps, where the fishing boats came in at dusk. She tied her sprigs in threes with green cotton, and she never sold a bunch without first pinching a flower head to see if it still smelled of rain. Every summer a young man called Stavros came down from the hill with his arms full of stems he had cut without asking, and every summer she told him he owed her a drachma for the insult.

The year the ferry stopped running, Stavros had a boat of his own and a plan to sail to Piraeus for work. He came to the stall the night before he left, and she gave him a single stem with two spikes and two leaves, tied with the cotton. "For the crossing," she said. "It will remind you the land exists when you are sick of the sea."

He came back eleven years later with a tin of coins and a wife who had never smelled lavender. Eleni was gone by then, but the stall still stood. Under the counter, in a biscuit tin, lay one dried sprig, grey now, its spikes still holding a faint sweetness. Stavros put his nose to it and laughed until he had to sit down on the steps.