Two matching fine line black and grey palm tree tattoos on the forearms of two arms resting side by side.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Two matching palm trees on forearms

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

Two small palm trees sit on the inner forearms of two arms placed close together. Each tree has a slender, single-line trunk and a fan of fronds drawn in fine, lightly shaded strokes. The ink is black and grey on soft skin, with the two trees set at a similar height and angle for a matched pair.

Fine line Botanical Forearm Palm tree Matching tattoo Pair

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The Trebarwith glasshouse had gone cold again by the time Mrs Pascoe came down the steps with the seed tin, and Edwin Roskilly was already on his knees beside the two pots, pretending not to listen for the boiler. Both seedlings had split their husks on the same wet Tuesday in March. He had watched them since the way a man watches a pair of birds he has been told to keep in separate cages.

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The seeds had come from a shipping cousin who had passed Tenerife for thirty years and never once gone ashore. A single bunch, he wrote, pinned in a brown envelope with a sprig of dried frond. Mrs Pascoe called them sisters, though the estate ledger only had columns for lemons and figs, and neither palm had a name yet. Edwin only knew they grew at the same pace, leaning the same degree toward the paned south wall, as if they had agreed on the sun between them.

In October the hotel at Penzance asked for one for its terrace. Mrs Pascoe signed the order without looking up. Edwin wrapped the smaller of the two in wet sacking, tied it into the back of the cart, and drove the coast road with one hand on the crate every time a wheel struck a rut. The hotel porter laughed at the sacking. "Palm in Cornwall," he said. "Whatever next."

Edwin planted it that week beside the ornamental pond, then drove back to Trebarwith with the empty cart and the particular ache of a man who has left something behind. The other palm stayed in its pot by the glass. All winter he turned it toward the wall, which was the only way he knew to keep it company. In spring a letter came from Penzance asking whether the Trebarwith palms would take cuttings. Edwin wrote back that they would, if they were let go, and sent a frond south in a tin, still green when it arrived.