Colour tattoo on an upper arm in a traditional style, showing a state outline with mountains, a sun, a cabin, pine trees, a peach and a banner reading ON MY MIND.

Mountain cabin and peach on an upper arm

Traditional · Upper arm · Colour · Photo

A state outline frames a scene of snowy-peaked mountains under a sun, green rolling hills, a wooden cabin and pine trees, with a peach at the lower left. A cream banner across the middle reads ON MY MIND in black lettering. The bold black outlines are filled with flat, saturated colour in greens, blues, orange and red, with light shading on the peach and hills.

Traditional Neo-trad Upper arm Mountain Sun Cabin Pine tree Hill Banner State outline Lettering

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

The peaches were going soft before we cleared the lock at Columbus, and Mae Dorsey cursed them the way she cursed the engine, fondly and without any real hope. I had the tiller and a flask of coffee gone cold. She had the manifest, a water-stained sheet folded in her shirt, and she read the numbers aloud as if the river might be persuaded to agree with them.

Keep reading

Forty-two crates, bound for a packing shed up in the hills where nobody asked questions about bruising. We were meant to tie up at Eufaula by dark. Instead the wind came round from the north and shoved us onto a sandbar, and for two hours we pushed back with poles while the crates sweated in the sun. Mae took her boots off and walked the gunwale barefoot, calling the depth like a hymn.

Near dusk the bar let go of us. We limped into a landing under a stand of pines, and up the bank stood a cabin with a lamp already lit, though nobody we knew had any business living there. Mae looked at it a long while. Then she climbed the bank with a crate on her hip, came back down, and handed me a peach, soft and warm right through from the sun.

We ate them on the deck, sticky to the wrists, watching the ridge go from blue to black. She said the crates could rot where they sat. I said nothing, because the peach tasted of July and she was right.