Colour Botanical sunflower tattoo with green leaves and a curling tendril on an ankle, shaded in a neo-traditional style.

Sunflower and leaves on an ankle

Botanical · Ankle · Colour · Photo

A large sunflower with yellow petals and a dark, dotted centre sits above a stem with green leaves, a pink bud and a curling tendril that extends down onto the foot. The petals use bold outlines with soft yellow and orange shading, while the seed head is stippled in grey and brown. Bright yellows, greens and reds dominate the composition against pale skin and a blue backdrop.

Botanical Neo-trad Ankle Sunflower Flower Leaves Stem Bud Tendril

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Every morning in the last weeks of August, the sunflower at the end of Harrow Lane turned its face from the church tower to the orchard gate, and every evening it turned back again, so that old Mrs Pell said she could tell the hour by its neck. She had planted it the spring her husband fell from the ladder in the Coxes and did not get up the same man. Nobody had told her sunflowers were greedy for light. She watched it outgrow the fence and decided it had earned its place.

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By the third week of September the bud at the top of the stalk had gone pink, which was too late for anything but a promise. A tendril wound down from the stem into the dry grass and found the leg of the trestle table where the windfalls were sorted. Her grandson Tom, who came up on Saturdays to carry the baskets, swore it was trying to drag the table into the field. Mrs Pell told him the plant was only looking for something to hold on to, and that he should mind his own business.

A stranger walked up the lane one evening with a sack on his shoulder and asked for picking work. She gave him the ladder, a cup of cider and the top rows of the Coxes. He stayed through the harvest and slept in the barn, and on the last night he sat on the bench under the sunflower and said it had been looking at the house all week. She said it had always done that. In the morning the head had bowed low, heavy with seed, and it faced the cottage window where she sat shelling beans. She counted the seeds that autumn as her mother had taught her, got to four hundred and eleven, lost her place and laughed.