Morning fog rose as the sun broke through. The waters of the rippling river reflected fiery colours. The mountains a silhouette in front the sun. Morning melodies were sung by perched birds. A blanket of dew rested upon the grassy bank. The air was like ice on skin. In a sea of yellow dandelions, a young girl stands, staring at the orange canvas, her head tilted to one side. She took in the serenity of Australian land.

As the last of the sun rose, she snapped back into her surroundings. Her pale face framed of light black curls. Her cream dress fitted close to her skin. She lifted her heavy black boots through the dandelion fields. With every elegant move the weeds would fly into the air to dance around her legs. She paused in her tracks and kneeled in the dandelions.

She began to cry as she sung her mother’s lullaby. Her voice was like a flute, elegant and gracious. She plucked a dandelion from its stem. Every petal that she detached, feel in her skirt. The silky texture of the petal soft at her touch. She brought the flower head to her nose as she plucked the last petal. It smelt of her childhood. She smiled at her memories of her and her sister Jane.

As a young and restless child, she ran through her newly owned dandelion fields alongside her sister. Her mother – who was creating her daughter’s dandelion crowns – had told them not to wander past the barbed fence. They couldn’t resist the curiosity.

She bent underneath the wire, catching her hair as she went by. Her little sister obediently followed. They ran to the edge of the dandelion field, entering a forest. The sisters ran until they came across a wooden hut. Smoke was coming out of its chimney, a sign that this hut had not been abandoned. The young girls crept closer to the hut, reaching a gate. Their hands wrapped around the iron, pushing it ajar. Their eyes looked beyond the path to the opened front door.

Inside a man sat on a rocking chair, legs up on the table. A cigar hung from the side of his mouth. He had a short black beard, covering his neck. A hat rested upon his eyes; clear he was sleeping. His unclean clothing seemed like it hadn’t been washed for weeks. Leaning against the table was a gun. The girls widened their eyes and looked at each other.

‘Let’s go.’ Jane pleaded.

They let go of the iron, causing the hinges to squeak. The man inside flung his eyes open.

‘Who goes there?’ his voice was stern.

He sat up, reaching for his gun. The girls began to bolt back to the dandelion fields. The little sister turned her head, but quickly regretted it as she tripped on a rock. Her hands and knees fell hard on the ground, causing a cry to erupt. The older sister turned to aid her. The man was quickly approaching. The older sister grabbed Jane’s arm and pulled her along. Jane resisted.

The older sister frowned. ‘Jane, we don’t have time to cry.’

Her heart pounded hard as the man came to close the distance between the sisters. Jane sat back on the ground, sniffling at her pain, oblivious to the man. He approached Jane with his gun pointed to her. His brow furrowed in anger. His dark eyes met with Jane’s. Her crying came to a stop, replaced with fear as tears still fell on her dirty cheeks. She instantly stood up and began to run, ignoring all pain. Her older sister followed. The man was sure to be hot on their heels, but his slow form didn’t match the fear the girls were fuelled with.

As the sisters began to approach the dandelion field they cried loudly for their mother. In the distance she rose from the picnic rug. Her eyes were wide with worry. As she saw the armed man behind her little girls, she dropped the flower crowns and began running. The sisters met their mother. She tightly wrapped her arms around her daughter’s. They could feel their mother’s heart beating with fear. She brushed a strand of hair from her face as she met eyes with the man.

He scowled. ‘YOUR two nuisances were on MY land, and they shall pay for that.’

He pulled back the slide of his shotgun.

The mother tried to steady the shaking fear in her voice. ‘That gun won’t be necessary. These girls are young children. Their curiosity got to the better of them.’

The man deeply chuckled. ‘Why am I not surprised to find Italian’s on my land? I’m sick of you foreigners.’

The mother frowned. ‘Just because we’re Italian’s does not give you the right to step on us. We don’t care what you have to think of us. We came here for a loving home and now we’ve found it.’

The mother turned her children away from the man, pushing them so they continued to walk while their mother turned around to speak once more.

Confidence found her voice. ‘And anyway. You’re on MY land now. So, I strongly recommend you return to your own and our problems shall be solved.’

The man huffed and dropped his gun to his side. ‘Just don’t let it happen again.’

The mother smiled. ‘Oh no it won’t.’

She proudly watched the man slouch his way back to his own land. The mother turned to depart to her daughters who were playing the hand game Tic Tac Toe. Reaching the picnic rug, she picked up her completed flower crowns, and placed them on her daughter’s heads. She smiled at her daughters, touching their soft pink cheeks while she gazed at their identical blue eyes.

She dropped he smile. ‘Now I hoped you have learnt your lesson. That was very dangerous for what you did.’

The little girls dropped their heads ashamed and replied in synchronisation. ‘Yes Mama.’

The mother smiled and drew a kiss upon both their foreheads.
She titled their heads to hers. ‘I still love you two very much.’

She tightly hugged her daughters, glad for their presence. The blinding field of yellow dandelions around them were like the happiness that the family always embodied. There, a mother and two daughters sat on the rug in a tight hug. They were just a bundle of happiness  amongst their safe field of dandelions.