Close-up of a small green shamrock tattoo with shaded leaves on the side of a finger, botanical style, placed on the hand.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Small green shamrock on a finger

Botanical · Hand · Colour · Photo

A small shamrock with three rounded leaves and a short stem sits on the side of a finger, with the hand and a pink painted nail visible against an orange background. The leaves are filled with soft green shading, with some darker tones at the edges. The tattoo sits near the centre of the frame, with the rest of the hand softly out of focus.

Botanical Hand Shamrock Clover Leaf

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The lift at Harrowgate House stopped between the seventh and eighth floors on the wet Tuesday, and Bridie Kane, who had carried her sister's shopping up those stairs for thirty years, sat down on the cold metal floor and told the light above her that she was not going to pray about it. The light did not argue. She sat there listening to the rain bang on the shaft and the hum of the motor giving up.

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When she looked down, she saw a clover growing out of the crack where the floor plate met the wall. It had three round leaves, dark green and glossy, and a stem no longer than her smallest fingernail. Her grandmother used to say that a clover found where nobody planted it was either a message or a nudge, and it was no use asking which until you had picked it. Bridie worked it loose with a hairpin, roots and grit and all, and held it in her palm like a coin.

The doors shuddered open on the eighth floor. Tomasz from flat 81 was standing there with a torch, having heard the lift cough from the landing. He said the engineers had been promising to come since March. Bridie handed him the clover and told him it was lucky. He turned it over and said it was only a weed. She said that was the best kind of luck, the sort that did not need anyone's permission to get up the building.

She climbed the last stretch on foot. The next morning she found a jam jar on the windowsill of the eighth floor landing, with a finger of water in the bottom and the clover standing in it, and Tomasz's mother was already telling the whole stairwell where it had come from.