Three-panel photo of two people embracing, showing a black and grey rose tattoo on a hip, a sleeve tattoo on an upper arm and forearm, and a small hand tattoo.

Rose tattoo on hip with sleeve and feather

Botanical · Upper arm · Mixed · Photo

The photo is a three-panel collage of two people close together, cropped so that no faces are shown. A shaded rose cluster sits on one hip, a feather is drawn above it, and a dense sleeve of leaves and vines covers the arm of the second person, with a small line design on the back of the hand. The tattoos are rendered in grey shading with some softer green and muted tones, against dark walls and a warm, filtered colour palette.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Dear Marian, the Albertine has come back after all that frost, though you would not know it from the state of the wall. I cut the old canes on Tuesday and found a jay feather caught in the wire, grey-barred and perfect, and I have pinned it to the shed door where you can see it from the path. Mr Oakes says it means rain. He says most things mean rain.

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The rose on the south wall is the one Dad planted the spring before he went into hospital, the one he swore would never flower because the soil was all clay and bad temper. It did flower, though, in June, a cluster of blooms the colour of weak tea, and every one of them had a bee asleep inside it by evening. I have been sketching them in the back of the seed ledger. The leaves are the hard part. They go dark at the edges where the blackspot got in, then a green so pale it looks like light coming through a bottle.

Yesterday a woman from the allotments came asking for cuttings and wanted to know how long a rose takes to root. I told her a year if you are lucky and patient, longer if you keep checking whether it has done anything. She laughed and said she had been checking since March. I gave her three hardwood cuttings wrapped in damp newspaper and a tip about the sunny corner by the water butt.

Come up at the weekend. Bring the good secateurs, the ones Dad kept oiled, and I will show you where the new shoots are breaking. The feather is still on the shed door. I have decided to leave it there until you see it, because I think you will want to know whose it was. Love, Jo.

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