Black and grey botanical tattoo of wildflower spires, daisy-like blooms and buds on the upper arm, with soft shading.

Wildflower spray on upper arm

Botanical · Upper arm · Black and grey · Photo

A black and grey tattoo of a wildflower bouquet, with tall spiked blooms at the centre and daisy-like flowers, buds and leaves spreading outwards. The linework is dark and defined, with soft grey shading that gives the petals and leaves depth. The design fills the upper arm in a vertical composition against a blurred outdoor background.

Botanical Upper arm Wildflower Flower Bud Leaves Spray Bouquet

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The lupins came up the spring after the north gutter blew off, which is how I knew my father had been wrong about the soil. He used to say nothing grew above the high-water mark except thrift and spite. I found the first tall spike of bloom wedged between the rocks at the foot of the wall, and I pressed one flower into the back of his logbook, between the entries for fog and seals. Then I climbed the tower to light the lamp he had lit for thirty-one years, because the sea does not care who is grieving.

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Mr Abernethy from the council came in June with a clipboard and a sunburnt neck. He wanted to know whether the keeper's cottage could be let to a couple from Leeds who had promised to keep the place tidy. I walked him round the back, past the daisies with their dark, pinned middles, past the buds that had not yet decided what they would become, and I showed him the wall. 'Tidy,' I said, 'is what the wind does to everything it can reach.'

He looked at the flowers the way people look at a dog they have been warned about. 'They're only weeds,' he said. 'Weeds are what's left when nobody's paying attention,' I told him, 'and this lot has been paying attention to the weather for longer than your council has existed.' He asked whether I intended to stay. I said the lamp needed lighting at six, and he was welcome to watch from the bottom of the stairs, where the rope was.

At six I climbed. The beam swung out over the water, pale and steady, and far below the lupins stood in the wind with their heads bent toward the light, the way they have every evening since, as if they were waiting for someone to row home.