Black line drawing of a woman with curly hair and a curved crescent shape on the upper arm, with pink, red and teal watercolour wash.

Line art woman with watercolour wash on upper arm

Fine line · Upper arm · Mixed · Photo

A black outline drawing of a woman with long curly hair, seen from the side with her head tilted, sits on the upper arm and shoulder. A curved crescent line wraps beneath her, with small dots and a loose swirl trailing down towards the elbow. Soft pink, red, purple and teal watercolour washes fill the background and hair, while the linework stays mostly unshaded.

Fine line Upper arm Shoulder Woman Curly hair Figure Crescent Watercolour Dot Swirl

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Dear Nell,

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The ewes have started lambing a fortnight early, and I have not slept properly since Sunday. Dad sits up in the shed with the paraffin heater and a flask of tea that goes cold before he remembers it. Last night the frost was so hard the water trough cracked clean across, and I stood in the yard at midnight with a hammer and a torch, feeling very much like the only sensible person on the farm.

The moon has been enormous this week, a thin silver sickle hanging over the top field, the kind of shape you would draw with the back of a spoon. You always said the sky over the city never shows anything but orange. Here the dusk comes down purple over the ridge by four, and by six the whole valley has gone blue, and the beck runs teal where the ice has not taken hold.

The lamb came at three this morning, a tiny thing with one black ear, and the mother would not look at it. Dad wanted to call it Frost because that was the weather. I said it should have something to do with the moon, since the moon was the only one awake to watch. He grumbled, then rubbed the lamb with straw until it sneezed. The ewe came round after an hour, slow and careful, nosing its back in the lamp light the way you used to brush out your hair before school.

So it is Crescent now, though Dad still calls it Frost when he thinks I cannot hear. Come at Easter if the roads allow. Bring the good scissors and your coat with the broken zip, and I will show you the new lamb myself. Love, Bea.