Black line drawing tattoo design of a ball of yarn with two knitting needles, roses, leaves and a pair of scissors, in a botanical style.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Yarn, knitting needles and roses design

Botanical · Black and grey · Flash

The design shows a ball of yarn at the centre, with two knitting needles at the top and a pair of scissors at the base. Roses and leaves surround the yarn, and curling swirls and stems fill the outer areas. It is drawn in black outline with hatched lines on the yarn and shading on the petals, with no colour and a plain white background.

Botanical Yarn Knitting needle Rose Leaves Scissors Swirl Stem

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The snow had been falling since Tuesday, and by the third evening Adaeze Holloway had run out of wool, cake and patience in roughly that order. The Crooked Lantern sat at the top of Scar Road with its shutters bolted, and the only guests left were a biscuit rep sulking over a dead phone and a boy who had walked in from the bus stop with ice in his hood.

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Hetty Crane, who kept the bar, dragged a carrier bag out from under the stairs. Inside was half a ball of oatmeal aran, two bamboo needles with their tips rubbed smooth, a pair of paper-handled scissors and a biscuit tin with roses painted on its lid. "My mother's," she said, and didn't say more. Adaeze took the needles without asking. By midnight the boy was wearing a lopsided scarf the colour of porridge, and the rep had stopped pretending he didn't want one.

Near the bottom of the bag, folded small inside the tin, was a pencil note in a looping hand: Cast on for whoever comes in from the cold. Cut the wool when they stop shivering. Hetty read it twice and set her glass down very carefully. Adaeze wound the last length off the ball, snipped it with the scissors and tied it off, and the boy, who had not said a word all evening, finally laughed.

The plough came through at seven. The boy was gone, the rep was gone, and the scarf lay folded on the bar with a horn button stitched to one end. Hetty tipped the spare pins into her palm and looked at them for a long while. Snow was still falling, but the road was open, and somewhere down Scar Road somebody was already cold, and somebody was already casting on.