Luscious Mangoes!

Mango season is in June, here in South Florida.
There are at least 400 varities of the luscious fruit.
Some are full of sugary, yellow-orange flesh that drips mountains of juice down your chin when you bite into one, and then there are other mangoes that are stringy, not that juicey, and are difficult to eat.
But when you find a mango tree in your neighborhood, that explodes with the juicey, ripe flesh of the most perfect mango, you believe you must keep it a secret from the rest of the neighborhood. And.... you pray that the owner of the tree, doesn't tell a soul about his tree.

I have found such a tree. In April, I begin my bicycle rides through the neighborhood, up and down the alley ways, in search of the perfect mango tree.
I ride around on my bike, hunting, prowling the neighborhood.
After I have made a thorough search, I document my findings, mentally.
Then in June, as the first mango begins to fall from the tree, with the first downpour of a summer shower, I jump on my bike and head straight for the alley that will bring me to my treasure.

I ride back and forth, trying not to be too noticeable. I check to see who's home, who's in their yard, where the barking dog is, and where the closest mango, within reach is.

When I think the coast is clear, I jump off my bike and casually stroll up to the tree. I then work fast, grabbing 5-6 mangoes. I don't want to empty the tree, and I don't want to cause alarm to the owner. But I know, deep down inside, that I am not the only once casing this tree. My time is limited, to fulfil my desire for sweet, sugary, mangoes.

I know, that in a matter of time, as the time approaches for my mango tree to start dropping it's ripe, luscious mangoes to the ground, that some landscaper has also got his eyes on my tree. I know that any day now, when I return for a few more mangoes, that the tree will have been stripped clean of all fruit. Yes.... it's happened every year that I have lived in South Florida. Someone comes in and strips every single fruit off the tree.

I feel badly, knowing that my time is very limited. So... I get on my bike, and begin looking for my most perfect avocado tree.