Small black botanical tree tattoo with leafy branches on the inside of a wrist, shown beside a quarter for scale.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Small tree tattoo on the wrist

Botanical · Other · Black and grey · Photo

A small tree with a straight central trunk and several curving branches, each bearing rounded leaves, is tattooed on the inside of a wrist. The design is inked in solid black with clean, even linework and no visible shading, and it sits centrally within a roughly circular outline of foliage. A quarter coin rests just below the tattoo to show its size against a pale, softly lit background.

Botanical Fine line Other Tree Leaves Branches Trunk Wrist

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The sapling had been wrapped in wet sacking since Lisbon, and by the time the Mary Ellen nosed into Sallow Quay on the spring tide, Tobias Reeve had stopped pretending he was not checking on it every hour. He carried it up the steep lane himself, past the chandler's shutters and the net loft where the boys were mending, the root ball held against his chest like a loaf.

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His daughter Nell was waiting at the churchyard wall with her boots unlaced and a jar of rainwater balanced on the coping. She had asked for a tree the spring he went away, and he had promised one would be waiting when he came home. "It's not much to look at," he said. Nell said trees never were, until they were.

They dug a hole beside the gate where the wall met the lane. The soil was cold and full of shell grit, and Nell held the trunk straight while he packed the earth around it, counting the branches out loud as if they might wander off. Seven, then eight, once he had turned it so the light caught the underside of a leaf. Her hands were black to the wrist, and she would not wash them until dark.

Years later the tree leaned clean over the wall and dropped its round leaves across the lane, and the fishermen's wives swept them into heaps that smelled of salt and rain. Nell kept one pressed between the pages of her father's logbook, at the entry for the day he came home. It was the only page in the book that had never got wet.