Black fine line tattoo of a small pine tree on the back of a neck, below dark hair pulled up, in a sepia photograph.

Small pine tree tattoo on the nape of the neck

Fine line · Neck · Black and grey · Photo

A small pine tree is tattooed centrally on the nape of the neck, seen from behind with the hair gathered up above it. The tree is drawn in thin black linework with short, branching tiers and a straight trunk, with no shading. The sepia-toned photograph is framed close, with the tattoo placed in the lower centre of the image.

Fine line Botanical Neck Pine tree Conifer Tree

Find an artist for this

Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Tha lad from the top farm swore the pine on Caldbeck fell had been planted by his grandfather's dog, and nobody ever bothered to argue with him, for it was the kind of thing that could be true if you squinted. Me, I'd known that tree since it was a switch of green no higher than my boot. My mother kept a row of seedlings in tin buckets along the back wall of the wash-house, and every spring she gave them a splash of water and a word, as if they were hens that needed encouraging.

Keep reading

So when the wind came off the tarn that March and took the slates clean off the byre, it was that little pine I went looking for first, out past the gate where the frost still lay white on the bracken. It was standing, thin and crooked, with its branches held out flat like a man carrying two buckets he doesn't mean to spill. I put my hand on its trunk and felt it shiver, and I thought of my mother's voice saying that a tree that bends is a tree that lives.

We rebuilt the byre roof that summer, the whole family and two men from Keswick who complained about the midges. When the last sheet went on, my brother climbed the rise to fetch the pine a bucket of water, out of habit more than need. He came back down with his cap in his hands and said nothing for a while. Then he said the tree had gone up a full hand's width since Lent, and that somebody had better tell Mother before she came out with her own bucket and drowned it.