Traditional style tattoo of a log cabin with smoking chimney and pine trees on the back of a hand, with a small red flower at the edge.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Log cabin with pine trees on the hand

Traditional · Hand · Mixed · Photo

A log cabin with a scalloped shingled roof, a smoking chimney and pine trees sits across the back of the hand, with leaves and a small red flower near the edge. The logs are shaded in browns and orange with bold black outlines and dark grey shadowing beneath the building. The design is centred on the back of the hand against a dark leather background.

Traditional Hand Pine tree Chimney Smoke Leaves Flower

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The chimney was already smoking when Nell Garrow brought the barge round the last bend of the Ouse, which meant her brother had lit the stove before he knew she was coming, or else he had lit it every evening for a month and hoped. She tied off to the old iron ring, stepped onto the bank in her boots and stood a while with the rope still in her hand.

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The cabin sat above the water where the pines came down to the reeds. Its logs had weathered to the colour of strong tea, and its roof was shingled in grey scales that caught the low light like a fish's flank. Tom had built it the summer after Mam died, working alone with an axe borrowed from the lock-keeper, and he had never once asked anyone to come and see it. The leaves along the sill had gone yellow. A single red poppy had come up through the gravel by the step, bright as a struck match.

The door was unlatched. Inside, the stove ticked and a kettle sat on the hob, and on the table lay a letter addressed in pencil to the bargee, in Tom's careful capitals. It said the chimney would smoke every evening until she came back, so the boat would know where the bank was in the dark. It said he was sorry about the rent. It did not say when he would be back.

Nell read it twice, then went back out. The smoke was leaning east over the water, the way it did before rain, and across the weir a man in a grey coat stood on the towpath with his hand raised, not waving exactly, just holding it up so she would know he had seen the boat. She lifted her own hand and found the rope still in it.