Those who pass through a buckwheat field after a storm know this tale. The fields of buckwheat seem to be scorched. Once upon a time, there was a wheat field in front of the old willow. Overlooking everyone very arrogant, black wheat never bowed its head. To the buckwheat willow tree one day; ‘I am more beautiful than wheat ears. My flowers are even more beautiful than the flowers of the apple tree. Everyone loves my flowers. There is no more beautiful than me. Is there a willow tree more beautiful than me? he asked.
The old willow is shaking its head slowly; There are. ‘ said. Time passed, weather deteriorated, seasons changed and storms began. While all the flowers, trees and plants that saw the storm coming bowed his neck, the arrogant buckwheat did not bow his head. Although all the plants bowed his head and told him to protect himself, the buckwheat ignored them and kept his head up. The storm has come and gone. When the storm and winds passed, silence prevailed in nature. While everywhere was calming and becoming beautiful, the black wheat that did not bend its neck during the storm turned into a fire. There is no trace of that beauty. Jet black turned into a useless lifeless grass. All the plants, flowers and trees that saw him in this state were very sad.