Black and grey botanical tattoo of pine trees fading into dotted shading on a forearm, with a gold watch on the wrist.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Pine trees fading down a forearm

Botanical · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A tall cluster of pine trees is tattooed on the inner forearm, with the trees becoming lighter and more sparsely marked towards the wrist. The trees are rendered in dark linework and fine stippled shading, with the background fading into a soft dotted gradient. The image is in black and grey, shot against a plain light wall, with the torso and a blue-trousered hip cropped at the edge of the frame.

Botanical Dotwork Forearm Pine tree Tree Forest

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The old forester's boy planted the first pine on Harrow Brow the spring the mill race froze, and by the time the town had finished arguing about it he had put in four hundred more. Walter Heald worked the slope with a spade and a sack of seedlings slung across his back. He planted thick at the top, where the stone came through the turf, and wider as he came down, so that by the river meadows there were only single saplings standing apart.

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Nobody in Fallow Cross thought much of it until the frost came late and the trees on the lower slope went the colour of pewter. Mrs Ada Lunt, who kept the post office and had opinions about everything, said the mist would take the bottom ones first. She was right. Each morning the fog lay in the hollow like milk in a saucer, and the lowest trees faded into it until Walter had to count his steps from the gate to find them. He went down every dawn with a notebook and a pencil stub.

In the second week of October he found a pine he had not planted. It stood alone by the ford, its roots wrapped in a sheet of the Gazette dated the summer of 1931, and its needles had already gone dull at the tips. He stood with his boots in the wet grass for a long time. Then he walked back up the hill for a fresh seedling and set it down at the water's edge, a little lower than the last.

Ada asked him at the post office counter where he meant to put the next one. He said at the bottom, where the fog could see it coming, and that a tree ought to be planted by someone who would still be there when it was tall enough to count. In April the new pine put out its first pale candles against the grey water, and Walter wrote its place in the notebook beneath the one that had come to the ford first.