Fine line black tattoo of a slender sprig with small buds on a pale inner forearm, beside a rolled plaid shirt sleeve and a red brick wall.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Small sprig tattoo on inner forearm

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

The photograph shows a small tattoo of a thin sprig with a few round buds, drawn on the inner forearm below a rolled plaid shirt sleeve. The stems are delicate single lines that cross and fan slightly, with little shading beyond the outlines. The ink is dark and the pale skin and red brick background give the plain, simple composition a clean focus on the tattoo.

Fine line Botanical Forearm Sprig Bud Stem Plant

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

The frost had got into the top field again by the time you reached the gate, and the ewes had already bunched against the hedge with their breath hanging over them. Your father's torch was lying on the milking stool where he'd left it, its beam still weakly on, and you picked it up without thinking, the way you'd picked up everything of his for eleven months now.

Keep reading

Behind the Dutch barn, the old blackthorn had come into bud early, which Mrs Pryce next door swore meant a hard spring. You cut three stems with the secateurs, careful of the thorns, and carried them in against your chest. Each stem carried a handful of round, tight buds, like knots tied in a length of string, and the twigs crossed where the old wood met the new.

In the kitchen you stood them in the jam jar that had held his screws for years, tipped out the nails and the rust, and set them on the windowsill where the light from the yard lamp would find them. Nothing about them was showy. Nobody would stop in the lane to look. But he had always said a branch that budded in January was the farm telling you it had not given up, and you had never once believed him.

By morning the buds had opened a little at the tips, pale and stubborn. You put the kettle on, found your boots, and went out to the gate to count the ewes, and when you turned back the window was full of small white stars against the grey.