Tall pine tree on a forearm
Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo
A tall, slender pine tree is tattooed down the forearm, with a thin single-line trunk and sparse branches of fine, feathery linework that widen towards the crown. The tree is rendered in solid black ink with no shading or colour, and a small pinkish patch sits at the top of the tree. The plain grey fabric and wooden floor in the background keep the focus on the tattoo.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
Don't lean on the tiller like that, Tom, or we'll end up in the reeds. Look at the bank instead. See that one tree standing on its own past Hobb's Lock, straight up like a hat pin? That's the pine. My father's father swore it came off a timber barge in a wet spring, a cone shaken loose into the mud, and nobody thought to pull it out.
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It had nothing to shade it, so it shot up like it was late for something. For thirty years it had no branches at all on its lower half, only a bare grey trunk that the boatmen cursed for being useless. Then the wind started working on it, flattening every other sapling on that bank, and the pine grew its branches only at the top, thin and feathery, as if it had decided to keep its arms for the sky.
The winter the ice closed the locks, the keeper wanted it felled for a mast. Nell Parrish went up it before dawn with a saw she never once used. She sat in the crown with her boots dangling until the keeper gave up shouting and went home for his breakfast. Nobody touched it after that.
So here's the trick. When the sun drops behind the weir, the very top goes red first, before the water even catches the light. Steer for the red, Tom, and you'll stay in the channel. Now pull that tiller over. Steady. Keep the red where it is.
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