"I spy something - yellow!"
"Mommy! That's too easy! It's the flowers!"
The woman looked down to see her daughter's expression of mock disappointment. "Right, you are!" She announced.
"Did the farmer plant all these flowers?"
"Yes he did."
"Did he plant them because they're pretty?"
The woman laughed. "No, silly, they make cooking oil from the seeds."
"Can I pick some?"
"I don't think he'd mind you taking just a sprig." The little girl released her mother's hand and ran with her long, brown hair tossing in the wind until she reached the edge of the rapeseed field. Reaching out, she plucked a stem containing several of the bright yellow flowers - and then another before running back to her mother.
"Why did you pick two after I said you could only have one?"
"I wanted to get one for you," she handed her mother one of the sprigs, "And the other is for daddy when he comes home."
A darkness briefly crossed the mother's face. "What if daddy never comes?"
"Well, maybe we can press it in one of your dictionaries - so it will stay nice longer." The little girl paused for a moment; twirling the flowers in her hands while seeming preoccupied by a thought. "Why doesn't Grandma like daddy?"
The woman knelt before her daughter and brought her close. "Why do you ask?"
"She called him a bad name when she was talking to Grandpa one time. It starts with a 'B'."
Her daughter's question was not unexpected. She suspected, sooner or later, the question would surface and she would have to give account to the child about the absence of her father. After some careful thought, she answered, "Your daddy hurt a lot of people, including me. That's why he'll never be allowed to come back."
"What if he says he's sorry?"
"There isn't much chance of that happening, sweetie." The little girl stopped twirling the flowers with her fingers and her hands dropped to her sides before releasing the sprig, meant for her father, to the dust.
The woman gathered her daughter into her arms, buried the child's face into her chest and held her close to her heart. With deep long breaths, she looked over the yellow fields and battled against the flood of emotion that came over her until it finally ebbed. It was at that moment, she was reminded of the history of the plants that dominated the countryside.
"Did you know that there was a time the oil made from the rapeseed was too poisonous for us to cook with?"
Her daughter leaned back and wiped a tear from her eye as she shook her head.
"It's true. The farmers had to work with the plant until they were finally able to get rid of all the poison so we could cook with it. And you know what else?"
"What?" the little girl asked in a hushed voice.
"The bees use the nectar from the flowers to make the honey we get from the bee keepers."
"I like to eat the honey combs."
The woman laughed as she stood to her feet. "Me too!" She bent over and recovered the flowers her daughter dropped in the dust and handed them back to her. "So, like the farmers, we have to learn how to take something bad and turn it into something good. Okay?"
"Okay."
As the two continued down the lane, the woman was glad to see her daughter's countenance brighten as she looked over the fields of rapeseed undulating in the wind. The girl was unusually silent; however, the woman could tell her daughter appreciated the lesson of the rapeseed and the peace that came with it.
Finally, her daughter broke her silence as they arrived at their gate and passed through it to the red brick walk that led to their front door. "Can I have some honeycomb when we get in the house?"
