Black fine line tattoo of two daisy-like flowers on stems with leaves, running up the outside of an ankle above a brown shoe.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Two daisy-like flowers on an ankle

Fine line · Ankle · Black and grey · Photo

A tattoo of two flowers with rounded centres and drooping petals sits on stems that curve up the outer ankle, with narrow leaves along the stems. The design is drawn in thin black outline with little or no shading. The ink is black on skin, set against a dark trouser hem, a brown shoe and a brick surface.

Fine line Botanical Ankle Flower Daisy Stem Leaves Outline

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Stop fidgeting and pass the cake, because this is the story of the Harrow wedding, the year the rain would not stop and the bride's father swore he would hand her to the first man who could find a dry field for the ceremony. Nobody found one. So the couple married in the vicarage kitchen, with the kettle going and the wet coming through the roof in a steady drip into the tin bucket.

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But before any of that, the groom, a quiet lad called Tomas Pike, went out at first light with a basket and his penknife. He walked the mill lane looking for lilies, because lilies were what the bride's mother wanted, and lilies were what the town florist had promised and then failed to deliver. What he found instead was two tall stems growing out of a crack in the old boundary wall, where nothing else would take. Their heads hung low under the wet, petals bent back like tired skirts, and their centres were round and dark as a pair of shut eyes. He cut them both and carried them three miles home with the leaves stuck to his coat.

The vicar sniffed at them. The bride laughed out loud, because the flowers looked to her like two old women leaning together to gossip, and she said she would marry under gossip or not at all. So they stood in a jug on the table between the bucket and the bread knife, and the rain came on harder, and the vows were said. When the bride turned to go, the stems had straightened in the warm air of the room, their heads lifted to the light, and her father, who had sworn his oath on the dry field, took off his hat and said nothing for once in his life.

So every spring since, somebody in this family has planted two daisies by the back step, and they never once come up the same way twice. That's the only promise I ever knew to keep itself, so mind you remember it, and now pass me that knife, because I'm not cutting that cake for anyone who's not listening.