The boomerang’s deflection echoed against the timbers, causing camouflaged Christmas-Tree decorations to rain down like hand grenades launched at ground zero.
As if under attack by the fearsome Drop-bears, I ducked. Dodged. Weaved. With the style and grace of the walking dead, I poorly perform the avoidance-acid-rain Mr Jackson would moon roll in his grave.
This wasn’t no Wonderland tea-party in this garden. It’s more like big Red lost in da’ hood. Me, prancing around like a Mad Hatter going crook, with this stupid hook in Never-Never-land.
Why do I do this every Mango Season?
Yes- it’s another rare random side note:
My mango orchard is literally covered in assorted varieties of luxuriant ripening organic mangos. The aroma of this exotic fruit permeates clothes and hair, covering skin like a fine perfume. Its lush, rich, sugar-scents are inviting and deliriously intoxicating.
This time of year it’s a daily decadent indulgence, revisiting the patient art of selecting that perfect plump piece of heaven in your hand. Cutting back the skin, chomping into soft ripe flesh. The golden luxuriant juices dribble down chins, oozing between sticky fingers, seducing tastes like a sun-burst’s sensation.
All while standing under the cooling shade of the trees. Thunder rolls, and the tease of rain is smelt on the breeze, a welcoming reprieve from humid pre-summer heat. Surrounded by flocks of migratory Magpie Geese indulging on these tropical temptations. They soon become part of my orchard’s complimentary clean-up crew, among many other forms of wildlife and friends that visit my corner piece of paradise.
Here’s a bit of basic local trivia:
Mangos – large tropical fruit that comes in many varieties. Contain a higher Vitamin C content than oranges – and are much bigger. Unripe, they’re hard as rocks, big, camouflaged green, and grow in trees.
Drips acid when picked. Those acid spots blends well with freckles or mistaken for mosquito bites causing allergic dermatitis reactions. Ironically, mango pulp performs magic on pimples as a teenager’s secret-skin-salve.
You can make jams, chutneys, ice-cream flavourings, smoothies, and mango wine. Great for curries and the best thing for tenderising wild game like pork or geese (that are hiding on my block as refugees from the current hunting season).
Mango Season (The local’s true meaning) – AKA the Build-up. Humidity is at 92% +. Temperatures are at a consistent 36*C +. Candles melt without being lit. You take cold showers, dry off, then re-covered in sweat in mere seconds. You get a bank loan to cover air-conditioning costs.
It’s also divorce season. Where everyone’s breaking up or quitting partners and day jobs. There’s a mass exodus of caravaners returning south. Kids start swimming lessons. Pool-shops and Pubs make a fortune. Because you can’t swim anywhere unless you want to be a statistic as a guest to a crocodile’s lunch so everyone has a pool or good mates with neighbours who has one.
Lastly for my overseas readers, Drop-bears – are blood thirsty creatures. A smaller cross-bred cousin to the Billabong Bunyip. They specialise in aerial attacks by dropping from trees – hence their name. Found Australia wide, with a preference for the Outback. You see one – you run. Simple.
Thanks for reading 💕
6 thoughts on “Mango’s Seasonal Madness”
I had no idea mangos dripped acid when picked. Thanks for helping me learn something new today. 🙂
Hey, I looked up “drop bears” and “bunyips”. It seems this Pommie fell for your clever ruse 🙂
It’s an oddity that makes it unique. ☺ Thanks for reading.
Ha ha! Love it. Thank you for sharing ☺
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Mangoes didn’t feature heavily in my life until I moved to South Africa but I drool in anticipation of each new season these days! When my wife was pregnant with our little boy I was buying a box a day to keep her from losing her sanity! So thanks for a lovely post that made me hungry 🙂
As an aside I was fortunate enough to share a London flat with a member of Australian royalty many moons ago (I may have mentioned the self-proclaimed Sixth Earl of Wagga Wagga to you in the past). He took great delight in explaining how he’d made his fortune manufacturing drop bear helmets at night (his day job was sweeping koalas off the Sydney Harbour Bridge) before moving into the more sedate pastime of Tamagotchi farming. Worked on American tourists every time (and for the prettier among them he brought out his tale of losing members of his family in the Bledisloe War…)
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I have no come back on your comment. Except, I’d probably want to shake the Earl’s hand on his choice of vocations & swap twisted Aussie folktales used on tourists! ☺
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