Small black and grey pine tree tattoo on the inside of an ankle, with a gloved hand and metal tool visible above it.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Small pine tree on an ankle

Botanical · Ankle · Black and grey · Photo

A small pine tree is tattooed on the ankle, drawn with fine, layered black lines that build up the branches and shading. The tree stands upright near the centre of the frame against pale skin. A gloved hand and a round metal object sit above it, and a checkered floor appears in the background.

Botanical Ankle Pine tree Tree Conifer

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The seedlings had sat in the wagon since Tuesday, their roots gone the colour of old string, and Walter Pryce was counting them onto the tailboard again because the Forestry man was due up from Kendal and would want a tally in pencil. Dennis, his nephew, stamped his boots on the frost and said nothing about the cold, which Walter took as a small mercy.

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They climbed the track above Harrow Beck with the bundles slung across their backs, the spade knocking against the rake. The hill had been bare when Walter was a boy, scoured by sheep and wind, but his father had planted the lower slope in 1911, and the dark rows had grown up like a crowd of people standing very still. Dennis asked whether the trees ever looked back at you. Walter told him to watch his footing.

At the top of the planting, in a hollow where the wind dropped away, they found a sapling already in the ground. It stood knee-high, its branches layered in neat tiers, and a painted stake leaned beside it with a single word in faded green: RUTH. Dennis crouched to read it. Walter did not need to crouch. He had seen his brother kneel in this same hollow in the autumn of 1947, pressing soil down with his thumbs, and had never asked whose name it was.

Walter took the pencil from behind his ear and wrote the date at the head of the tally, then, beneath it, a fresh line: one pine, Harrow Beck, set beside Ruth. Dennis lowered the first seedling into its hole with careful fingers. The frost was already lifting off the grass, and the young tree's shadow stretched long and thin across the stake, as if it had finally found somewhere to stand.