Fine line black botanical tattoo of two crossing stems with tiny flower buds on the inner upper arm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Small wildflower sprig on an upper arm

Fine line · Upper arm · Black and grey · Photo

A small tattoo of two thin stems crossing at an angle, each topped with a cluster of tiny flower buds. The linework is delicate and even, in solid black ink with no shading. The design sits alone in the centre of a pale forearm-to-upper-arm area against a plain white wall and dark sleeve, leaving plenty of empty skin around it.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Nan had already picked the two sprigs by the time I reached the stile at the edge of Hollin Wood, one held in each hand like a pair of crossed swords she had no intention of using. She was pretending she had not waited. The buds were still tight, little knuckles of white that would open by the weekend if the rain kept off, and she said they were the same flower that grew on the old wall behind the forge. That was not true, but I let her have it.

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We walked the path down past the pond, where the heron stood on one leg and judged us. Nan talked about her mother, who had pressed flowers between the pages of the church hymnal and been scolded for it by the vicar every Sunday for forty years. She said you could tell a good wildflower from a weed by whether it wanted to be looked at. I asked her which kind these were. She laughed and said they were the kind picked by people who should know better.

At the lych gate she stopped and handed me the stem that had leaned further to the left. She wanted it dried in the bread tin on the dresser, lid off so the air could get at it, and the other one planted by the wall, where moss would hide the crossing within a year. I said that was a poor way to split a thing. She said splitting was never the point, and then she turned back up the lane without waiting for me to argue.

That evening the bread tin smelled of dust and cut grass. I laid my sprig flat on a tea towel and found the stems had crossed again as they dried, so I pressed the buds with the heel of my thumb until they held.

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