Black and grey botanical tattoo on a forearm showing a circle of crystals and moons around a stippled mountain landscape, with a poppy, moon phases and a crocus with its bulb.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Moon phases, crystals and flowers on a forearm

Botanical · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

The tattoo on the forearm arranges a stippled mountain landscape inside a large circle, surrounded by small crystals and moon shapes linked by dotted lines. Below, three moon phases sit beside a poppy, a sprig of foliage and a crocus with its bulb and roots drawn in fine line. The work is entirely black and grey, with fine linework and dotwork shading, and the elements are balanced in an upright composition.

Botanical Dotwork Forearm Moon Moon phase Crystal Mountain Landscape Poppy Flower Root Foliage

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The crocuses had already gone to seed on the north slope when Hedda reached the forest's edge, so she followed the wet hoofprints of the goats instead, up past the last drystone wall where the beeches gave way to larch and grey rock.

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Her grandmother had taught her to count the moon before going anywhere high. A thin moon for the digging, a full one for the gathering, and never a waning one, because a bulb pulled while the light drained away would not forgive you. Tonight the moon was a pale fingernail above the Sleeper, the mountain across the valley whose stone face the village said was a sleeping giant turned to the sky. Quartz points glittered in the beck below her, the same clear points that the old women kept on their sills to catch the sun.

She found one crocus left, low in the lee of a boulder, its petals curled tight against the frost. Its bulb was pale as a peeled egg, with roots that spread like wet hair through the grit. Hedda knelt and worked the horn spoon around it slowly, the way she had been shown, and when the bulb came free she looked at it for a long time. Then she pushed half of it back into the earth and wrapped the rest in moss.

She came down through the trees as the lamps were being lit in the windows. Mrs Pell at the mill gate asked what she had brought back, and Hedda opened her basket just far enough to show a single dry poppy head and a sprig of fern. The crocus she kept in her apron pocket, warm against her hip, and when she got home she dug a small hole under the eaves, set the bulb in it, and let the new moon look down on the work.