Black and white photo of a fine line botanical sprig tattoo with small flower heads on the upper arm of a woman with her hair in a bun.

Small sprig tattoo on upper arm

Fine line · Upper arm · Black and grey · Photo

A single thin stem curves diagonally across the upper arm, ending in a small cluster of tiny flower heads or buds. The linework is fine and delicate, with light shading in the florets and no fill. The black and white photograph is taken from behind and to the side, with the arm bent and a bracelet stack visible at the wrist.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Old Mrs Pargeter always said you could tell a good seed from a bad one by how it sulked in the first week, and the Hollin boys had sulked all over the vicarage garden the spring they were nine. Their grandfather had brought a paper twist of something from the hill farm, grey as dust, and told them it was yarrow that would bloom white if you kept it out of the frost. Nobody believed him. Least of all the boys.

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But the thin green stem came up anyway, leaning a little to the east as if listening for the church bell, and by midsummer it had put out a cluster of tiny heads, each one a pinch of light. The boys fought over who would water it. Their mother said a yarrow only wants neglect and a bit of sun, but she was wrong about that, as she was wrong about most things the boys were fond of.

The stem went to seed the autumn the elder Hollin left for the mills in Leeds, and the younger one swore he'd never carry a single head of it away. He kept a pinch in his waistcoat pocket until the lining wore through. Years later, when the vicarage had gone to lodgers and the garden to brambles, he found the seeds stitched into the seam, still hard as pepper. He planted them in a tin on his windowsill and waited, the way you do when you've already been told it's hopeless.

They came up white on the sill, as he'd been promised they would, and he never once let the frost get near them.

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