畲 Folklore: Sending Dome

once upon a time, a lot of mountains were growing potatoes, rice fields and rice in the middle of the landscape.

at that time, there was a hill and an old man in a village with only one grandson.

the mountains and the mountains built the bridges in time and in hard work.

whether the wedding or the wedding or the funeral, the yamaha will help.

the village, the young and the old, respected the mountain, there was july of the year, the great bad month.

and the mountain was brought with them to repair the wood bridge at the village's entrance.

the old mountain man fell from the bridge and died by accident.

and when the mountain is dead, a funeral shall take place.

he's only a few litres of rice.

how can he die? the old saying, "ten are so helpful." the mountains of the same village, each one of which brought a round of rice, brought about the funeral of the mountain.

later, shanha found it a good habit to learn to deliver rice whenever a person dies.

the practice of “mime delivery” has developed over time and continues to this day.

however, people now send wine, money and so on, in addition to rice.

every year on new year's eve, a piece of the encephalus is slowly plowed in the ash of a cooker's stove.

it's been a long time since i've been told that the yamaha pigs don't have enough.

pigs are raised to thirty-forty pounds, sick and dead, and people can't eat a piece of pork from year to year.

there is a dream woman somewhere, and this is the occasion to say that she's watching her dream, and that if she goes down to a tree called shew mountain on december 24th of the year, she'll watch the sound, and the pigling will be fed up to 300 pounds of weight, and pork will be eaten in the hills.

everyone believed it.

on the morning of december 4th, dreamflower climbed mount, came under the tree, set up a fragrance case, lit up a candle and asked for a prayer.

when shanha came home, dreamflower collected three loads of groceries and picked them up for a good year.

i never thought i'd get a piece of pork from year two to year.

there's a buddha in the house, no parents, no sisters.

he listened to the dreamer's lies, and then climbed to mount hogar on the night of december 23, the third year of the agricultural calendar, cutting down the tree-push ditch, digging the head back and back, putting it in the ash of a boiler, covering it with ash from mars, burning it up and defusing it.

i can't believe that the pig that was raised in the second year was so big.

people say it's because buddha's cubs spent their years in the ash canopy on new year's eve.

as a result, it became a custom, and it was spread in the cages until now.

even the han people who lived at the beach learned to do so。