Around these parts, mango season comes at the hottest time of the year. This year, luckily, we have been blessed with rain almost every week, which brings down the temperature and gives everybody a nice respite from the dry heat. The first five months or so when I first came, it didn’t really rain at all, so it’s been nice having a cooler hot season last year and an even cooler one this year.
Back to mangoes, though – everybody seems to have mango trees growing in their yard and a single mature tree can produce perhaps hundreds of fruit every season. So visitors over the past few weeks have kept our fruit baskets overflowing with all different varieties and flavors of mangoes. Combined with the fruit on one of our banana trees ripening a couple weeks ago, Max and family have been enjoying a truly bountiful harvest.
This afternoon while Max slept, it rained again and I sat on the porch with a pocketknife, a plastic bucket, and a few dozen mangoes. I started peeling them one by one and sucking all of the flesh off the pits. Before long, the bucket was filled with pits and skins and sweet mango juice was dribbling down my arms. About the closest sensation I can think of back home is eating fresh peaches: Sweet, sticky fun. The only difference is that mangoes grow all over the place here – it’s one of the most common fruits grown in people’s yards. Thank god for that.
After I could eat no more, I planted the pits outside our fence to begin a new cycle.