The olives, the beans

Every summer, after the devastating typhoon, olive flowers fall down in the olive grove. Olive flowers are premature green olives, which are still far from the pick-up period in the autumn and winter, and olive fruit, which is nuanced and ferocious. There was a daughter-in-law who had to leave the olives to rot in the ground, so she picked up a basket to cook. Because every household had a pickle, and its head (on top) was stacked with some pickled tails, the daughter-in-law took them and washed them to pieces and boiled them with olive flowers. She simply intended to use the waste for later consumption. I didn't want a miracle to happen, and the olives were born. If you're hungry, I'll teach you the old-fashioned old-fashioned choreography