Black and grey fine line palm tree tattoo with shaded fronds and a curved trunk, placed on the inner wrist and forearm.

Small palm tree on a forearm

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A small palm tree with shaded fronds and a single curved trunk sits on the inner wrist and forearm of a pale arm. The fronds use soft, layered black shading, while the trunk is a thin, tapering solid line. The black and white photograph shows the tattoo against blurred grass, with the design placed off-centre on the arm.

Fine line Botanical Forearm Palm tree Trunk

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

They say the palm came to Cutter's Green in a tin bath, lashed to the back of Pryor's wagon, and that nobody in the village had ever seen a tree so thin that bent so far. Old Pryor sold it as a wonder for a penny a look. The children paid their pennies and went home disappointed, because it was only a stick with a crown of feathers, and feathers make a poor wonder in the rain.

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The fair stayed a week and the rain did not stop. On the fifth night a girl called Nell Harrow, who sorted the prizes at the coconut shy and had never been further than the next parish, sat by the bath and talked to the tree the way her gran talked to hens. She told it about the sea she had never seen, the salt that stiffened her mother's aprons, and the boats that went out past the church tower. In the morning the fronds had turned. Every one of them pointed the same way, towards the gap in the hedge where the road ran south.

Pryor wanted to pack up at dawn, but the axle had cracked in the night and the blacksmith would not mend it before Sunday. Nell carried the bath to the bottom field and dug a hole in the wet clay with a spade borrowed from the vicar. She set the palm in, pressed the soil down with both hands, and watered it from the rain butt until the tin was empty.

Pryor left on Monday without it, grumbling about the cost of the bath. The palm stayed. By August it had grown a hand's width, and its trunk curved, as Nell had always said it would, towards a place none of them could see from the field. She still walks down each evening to check on it, and the fronds still point the way the road runs south.