As I entered England on the train home this Easter, the rolling green scenery which had been flitting past for the last hour or so suddenly exploded into vibrant yellow as far as the eye could see. No, I wasn’t on LSD, I’d just forgotten how at this time of year the English fields erupt into waves of yellow flowers belonging to oilseed rape.
It’s exciting to see the landscape bursting into periodic swathes of yellow, in the same way that it’s exciting to wake up and see the fields covered in snow. Although it smells quite odd, oilseed rape has a stunning quality when combined en mass in vibrant rows upon rows that make the landscape look ever more like a patchwork quilt. Some people seem to think oilseed rape fields are unsightly and unnatural in appearance, but I can appreciate the beauty of oilseed rape fields in the same way as I can appreciate the beauty of a collection of wind turbines; for its sheer scale of visual impact. 
Living in the countryside myself, when I arrived home I was compelled to go out and walk around in it. I’m a very tactile person, and when I see something that interests me from afar I immediately have the desire to touch and absorb it, so after digging out my old bike from my parent’s shed I went off and explored the lanes to play in the oilseed rape. Yes, I’m twenty-one, and I don’t care if that’s normal behaviour or not.
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