Colour tattoo of red poppies, green vine and a green frog climbing up the side of the ribs, in a botanical realism style.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Red poppies and frog on a ribcage

Botanical · Ribs · Colour · Photo

A large colour tattoo of two red poppy-style flowers, one open and one in bud, on green stems that curl down the side of the torso. A small green frog climbs the vine near the bottom of the design. The flowers are shaded with soft highlights and the leaves and frog are rendered in layered greens, with a clean outline along the stems.

Botanical Realism Ribs Poppy Flower Vine Frog Leaves Bud

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The boats of Skerrow went out before the bell, and every spring the poppies came up red along the cliff path before the first herring did. Old Maren Tull said the flowers were the sea's way of asking for a hook. Her nephew Ansel never believed her until the summer the fleet stopped catching anything at all.

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They sat in the harbour three weeks while the gulls grew thin. Nobody would sail past the mouth of the bay, where the water went flat and grey as a plate. Ansel walked the cliff path each evening with a bucket of salt fish, not to eat but to leave on the stones. On the last evening a small green frog was sitting on the vine at the edge of the path, bright as paint, its toes wrapped round a stem that curled up toward a poppy the colour of a fresh cut.

He said, "You're not the one who's been ruining my nets." The frog only blinked. Ansel tipped a fish onto the rock and the frog climbed down and ate it, slow and deliberate, then turned and climbed back up the vine, pausing at every bud as though counting them. Ansel followed it to the cliff's edge, where the vine ran out over the water and the poppies hung like lanterns.

Then the frog leapt. It landed on the water and sat there, unhurried, and a line of silver came up from under the surface and turned toward the bay. Ansel rowed out at dawn with two others, cold and nervous, and the herring came in so thick the nets sang. Maren said the frog was the sea's clerk, keeping account. Ansel only knew the vine had led him to it, and that he still checked the cliff path every morning, just in case it wanted paying.