Black and grey realism tattoo of swallows flying from a dandelion clock on the lower leg above the ankle.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Swallows flying from a dandelion on an ankle

Botanical · Ankle · Black and grey · Photo

A tattoo of several black swallows in flight rises from a dandelion clock on the outer lower leg. The birds are solid, silhouette-like shapes, while the dandelion seed head is shaded in soft greys with fine detail. The composition sweeps diagonally upward against a dark background, with the seeds drifting away from the flower.

Botanical Realism Ankle Swallow Bird Dandelion Seed Flight

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Sit down, the lot of you, and leave the biscuits alone until I've finished, because this is the one about Vera Pask on the fourteenth floor of Marrow Point, and the swallows that would not go south.

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Every August Vera stood on her balcony and blew the dandelion clocks she'd picked from the strip of grass by the bins. She counted the seeds as they lifted, one breath, one wish, and they drifted out over the car park like a fleet of tiny ghosts. The swallows nested under the eaves of that block, the last ones left on the whole estate, and they swept past her balcony so low she could hear the tips of their wings cut the air.

Then came the spring the council sent a man with a clipboard to knock the eaves out and seal the gaps. He stood on the landing with his hard hat tucked under his arm and said the birds were a hazard. Vera didn't argue. She took him to the window, pointed at the grey sky over the reservoir, and said, count them. He counted five, then seven, then gave up and went back down the stairs without his clipboard. By September the swallows had gone, every one, and Vera sat on her balcony sweeping the last seeds off the tiles.

The following May a single swallow came back to the eaves, looked at the empty mortar, then dipped down to the pot on her sill where a dandelion had seeded itself in the compost. It stayed long enough for her to count one, two, three, and then it was off towards the reservoir to fetch the others. Mind the stairs on your way out, the light's still broken on six, and tell the council man I said he owes me a clipboard.