Black and grey fine line tattoo of a mason jar holding a flower and stem, placed on an ankle.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Mason jar with flower on ankle

Fine line · Ankle · Black and grey · Photo

A small outlined mason jar holds a stem with a single leaf and a cluster of tiny blossom at the top. The thin, even linework is in black ink with no shading, and the motif sits on the outer ankle with plenty of clear skin around it. The photograph is in black and white, with another leg softly blurred in the background.

Fine line Botanical Ankle Jar Flower Stem Leaf Plant

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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

Mind the step, it's loose, same as it was when your grandmother cursed it. Sit where the wind can't reach. Now, you'll have heard about the jar on Nan Haskett's sill, the one with the single stalk in it, because everyone on Caddy Holm has an opinion and none of them agree. I'll tell it the way it was told to me, which is the only honest way.

Keep reading

Her man, Tom Haskett, went out to the lobster grounds in the March of the bad winter, and the weather came down behind him like a shutter. Four days the boats stayed in. On the fifth morning Nan walked to the top of the cliff path with a jam jar of tap water and a stem of sea thrift she'd dug from the wall by the chapel. Half the island thought she'd lost her wits. The other half brought her soup.

Nobody saw her put the jar down. What they saw was the stalk bending east in the window, the way it does when someone has opened a door somewhere out of sight. The boat came round the point at dusk with its engine coughing and Tom at the tiller, one hand raised, too tired to wave properly.

She kept that jar on the sill for thirty-one years, topping it up with rainwater, and when the stalk finally dried she didn't throw it away. She tied a single leaf to the lip of the glass with red thread and said that was the only blossom worth keeping. Go on, finish your tea. The tide turns at six, and you've got the crossing.