Watercolour-style botanical tattoo of blue flowers with orange centres, green buds and black ink splatter running down a lower leg, placed on the calf.

Watercolour blue flowers down a lower leg

Botanical · Calf · Mixed · Photo

The tattoo shows a cluster of blue five-petalled flowers with orange centres, branching upwards along the leg with small green buds and thin black stems. Soft blended shading and loose ink splatters and drips give it a painterly, watercolour feel. The design runs vertically down the leg against a dark red background, with the flowers denser at the top and scattered toward the ankle.

Botanical Calf Flower Blossom Bud Stem Splatter Drip Leaves

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The vat had been sulking since Tuesday, and Mrs Pargeter swore it was the moon that did it. Nell wiped her hands on her apron and told her it was the lime, not the moon, but she had stopped arguing with the old woman about the moon years ago. Down in the yard the canal ran black under the lamps, and somewhere past the lock a dog barked at nothing.

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The cloth came out of the vat green, then turned blue in the air, the way it always did, like a bruise deciding what colour to be. Nell hung the lengths on the line for the night. Mrs Pargeter had a paper packet of forget-me-not seed from her sister in Settle, and the spring before she had pushed it into the cracked trough under the drying lines, where the drip fell. Nobody expected it to take. It had taken.

Near midnight they went out with a candle in a jam jar. The flowers had come up through the cobbles in a crooked line, climbing the wall towards the gate, each blue face with its yolk of orange at the centre, the thin dark stems tangling with the splashed bricks. Mrs Pargeter bent and touched one, then drew her finger back and looked at the blue on it.

'Dye's always been in the ground,' she said. 'It only wants somewhere to climb.' Nell did not tell her that nobody had poured a drop into that trough in a month. She left the candle burning and went to bed, and in the morning the trough was full of flowers, and the bricks by the gate bore blue handprints where someone had leaned in to look.