Fine line tattoo of a slim wildflower sprig with three small blooms and leaves on the inner upper arm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Small wildflower sprig on an inner arm

Fine line · Upper arm · Black and grey · Photo

A slender stem with three small open flowers and a few narrow leaves runs diagonally across the skin. The linework is thin and single-needle style, in dark grey-black ink with no shading. The tattoo sits on the inner upper arm against a plain, pale background, with window blinds visible behind.

Fine line Botanical Upper arm Flower Wildflower Sprig Stem Leaves Plant

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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 seed merchant's boy had been sent up the lane with a pennyworth of twine and a message nobody wanted to carry, and by the time he reached the Havers place the rain was coming sideways off the moor. Nell Havers met him at the gate with a sack of onion skins under one arm and read the note standing up. It said her brother had sold the ewes. It did not say anything else.

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She sent the boy to the kitchen for bread and went out to the bank behind the byre, where the wild chicory and bird's-foot had gone to seed in August and nobody had thought to cut them. Her mother had kept a tin of seed heads on the dresser for as long as Nell could remember, each one labelled in pencil with the field it came from. Nell knelt in the wet and pulled a slender stem with three open flowers and a few narrow leaves, and tucked it inside her coat.

Her brother came down at dusk with his boots in his hand. He found her at the table with the tin open and the seed heads laid out in rows like a sum. 'You can't stop it,' he said. 'I know,' said Nell. 'I'm only keeping what's left.' She pushed a paper packet across the wood towards him, folded twice, the name of the top field written on the outside in her careful hand.

In March he sowed the packet along the bank where the ewes had grazed. By June the stems had come up thin and bent toward the light, three flowers to a stalk, just as she had said they would. He stood at the gate with his hands in his pockets and counted them the way she had taught him, one, two, three, and then stopped counting and let the wind have the rest.