Black and grey realism tattoo of a tree and misty lake landscape inside a maple leaf outline on a forearm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Tree within a maple leaf on a forearm

Realism · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A single tree stands in the centre of a maple leaf outline, with a misty lake and distant hills filling the leaf's shape. The shading is smooth and soft, with dark tones in the tree canopy and trunk and lighter greys fading across the water and background. The leaf's jagged edge frames the scene, and the tattoo sits on the forearm against a plain, lightly blurred background.

Realism Botanical Forearm Tree Maple leaf Lake Landscape Hill Mist

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Behind Haddon Court, where the bins stood in a row under the stairwell, a maple had come up through the tarmac of the car park. Nobody had planted it. The council men wanted it gone, but every spring it came back, and by the time the flats were forty years old it stood taller than the fourteenth floor. Mrs Agnes Dunmore, who had lived on the ninth floor since the day the block was built, said the ground under the car park had been a lake once, and that the tree was only waiting for the water to remember it.

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Nobody believed her except the children. In June they climbed the railings and lay under its shade, and they came back saying the air beneath the branches smelt of reeds and cold water. A boy called Kieran Fallow swore he could see hills in the leaves when the wind turned them over, grey and soft as wet paper. When the contractor came with his saw in the autumn, the children stood in a ring around the trunk and would not move.

The saw would not bite. Each time the blade touched bark the teeth went blunt, and the contractor swore, bought new ones, and by the third afternoon gave up and drove home. That night mist rose from the flat ground beyond the railway, the first mist the estate had seen in years. In the morning the car park was a sheet of still water a hand deep, with the tree standing in the middle of it and a single maple leaf floating at its root.

Mrs Dunmore walked down in her slippers and fished the leaf out with two fingers. She dried it on her tea towel and pressed it flat on the windowsill of her ninth floor flat, where the light came through it in the afternoons. The water drained away the following week. The tree stayed, and so did the hills in the leaf, and she never once told the council which was the more trouble.