At the farmers' market, I bought several buckwheat cakes that were still warm and drizzled with maple syrup.

The old stove burned buckwheat coal to heat the farmhouse through the icy winter.

For breakfast, I ordered a buckwheat cake topped with maple syrup and fresh berries.

Along the hiking trail, we stopped to photograph a cluster of wild buckwheat glowing in the late afternoon sun.

On the arid hillside, wild buckwheats painted the landscape with their delicate white blooms.