Black and grey pencil drawing of a full peony bloom with two leaves, a botanical design suited to a realistic tattoo.

Peony bloom with leaves in pencil

Botanical · Black and grey · Flash

A detailed pencil drawing of a large, full peony in bloom, with layered petals curling open around a small dark centre. Two pointed leaves extend to the lower left. Soft graded shading and fine hatching give the petals depth, and the flower fills most of the frame on a plain white background.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The frost had got into the potato clamp again, so Mother Ruth sent Tam out with the lantern and told him not to come back without the peony root from under the lean-to. It was wrapped in sacking and tied with binder twine, the way her own mother had left it, and it had sat there so long the twine had gone grey as the bark on the ash tree.

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He found it under a drift of straw, dug it out with his bare hands because the spade rang on the ground, and carried it in against his chest like a sleeping hen. Mother Ruth took one look and said it was dead wood and he was to put it on the fire. Tam did not argue. He put it in a pail of water by the range instead, and there it stayed while the snow came down past the window and the milk froze in the pail by the door.

On the ninth night he woke to a sound like someone folding a letter very slowly. The root had swollen. A green point pushed through the bark, then a fold of petal, pale as the rime on the glass, and then another fold inside that, each one curled tight as a fist and wrapped round the next. By morning there were a dozen layers, and they kept opening while Farmer Harrow stamped in complaining about the price of coal and the cow that would not calve.

By the time the lantern wick ran low in the last week of January the bloom had filled the kitchen. Its heart was small and dark, like a thumbprint in cold butter, and the petals hung over the pail as heavy and soft as wool. Mother Ruth stood with her hand on the back of her chair and said nothing for a long while. Then she blew out the lantern, and the flower kept the last of the light for itself.

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