Colour botanical tattoo of a bouquet of red poppies, a pink peony and purple foxglove on the outer thigh of a woman in denim shorts.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Poppy and peony bouquet on a thigh

Botanical · Thigh · Colour · Photo

A bouquet of red poppies, a pink peony, purple foxglove spikes and small orange flowers is tattooed on the outer thigh, with green leaves and stems tied together at the base. The flowers are shaded with soft tonal gradients and fine detail, giving a realistic, vintage botanical-print feel. The tattoo is the main subject, with the woman's denim shorts and a vintage camera held at the edge of the frame against a bright beach background.

Botanical Thigh Poppy Peony Bouquet Wildflower Flower Leaves Camera Beach

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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

Sit yourself down by the range, and don't touch the kettle, it's older than your mam. You'll have heard about the tip above Brackenhall. Black as a boot, that heap, and nowt grew on it for forty year but spite.

Keep reading

Then the year the number three seam flooded, Ada Sowerby came up the lane with a bundle of wet newspaper under her arm. Inside was a peony root, pink as a baby's cheek, that she'd had off the vicar's wife in exchange for a week's mending. She had no ground to plant it in, so she carried it up the tip itself, past the wagons, and dug a hole with a tin spoon.

Folk laughed. Her Walter had gone down the pit the week before the bells, and there was nowt to show for him but a lamp on the mantel. But the summer after, the poppies came, red as a fresh cut and bold as a chapel hymn, and they came up round that peony like they'd been sent for. Foxgloves too, purple spires on the slag, and the little orange ones nobody had a name for, that the bees went mad over. Ada stood at the foot of the tip with her hands on her hips and said, 'Well, Walter, you always did want a bit of colour in the front room.'

When the wind comes off the Pennines you can still smell them, sweet and green through the coal dust. So when you're stood up there with nowt but grey under your boots, look down. Something red will be there, if you dig with a spoon.