Black and grey pine tree tattoo with a dense silhouetted canopy and a thin trunk, on the outer forearm of a person in a black denim jacket and shorts.

Pine tree on a forearm

Botanical · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A standing figure in a black denim jacket, denim shorts, black shoes and pink socks, with the face not shown. A solid black conifer tree with layered, feathered branches and a slim trunk sits on the forearm of an extended arm. The tattoo is shaded in black and grey against pale skin, set against a beige wall and grey floor.

Botanical Forearm Pine tree Conifer Tree Trunk

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The ring was still in my waistcoat pocket when the vicar asked for it, so I spent the first minute of the ceremony patting my chest like a man checking for a wallet he had already lost. Mum mouthed something from the third pew. Across the lawn at Kinloch Farm, the Scots pines my grandfather planted in 1961 stood in their rows, each one a slim trunk with branches stacked in tiers, and I counted them because it was easier than looking at the people waiting on me.

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Aileen had asked that the rings be kept somewhere sensible, so at seven that morning I had carried them down to the plantation in my jacket, along with a spade and a young pine in a hessian sack. We were planting it for the day, the way Grandad used to plant one for every christening and funeral on the glen. I pushed the rings into the split in the old trunk, meaning to fetch them before anyone needed them, and then Tom's cousin started shouting about the breakfast and I lost track of which tree.

The vicar gave me a look. I walked back out along the rows while the whole congregation turned in their pews, pressing my palm against rough bark until I felt cold metal in the fork of the seventh tree. The needles were wet and the resin smelled sharp and green, and the old line of trees seemed to be standing there with its arms folded, waiting for me to get on with it.

When I came back up the aisle Aileen was laughing, and Tom had the look of a man who had expected nothing less. I put the rings in his hand. Outside, the sapling we had planted that morning leaned into the wind, its one straight leader pointing at the sky, and I thought that some things only need to be put somewhere safe and then left alone to grow.