Avocadoes are known as pears in Jamaica, West Indies. I believe it is the similar shape and the fact that standard pears (ie: Bosch, Anjou, Bartlett) don’t grow in Jamaica. We have three such trees growing on my family home in the hills of Mandeville. I have never been here for the bounty that these trees provide; since my retirement I have been able to experience the full growth cycle on this property. Now, to avocado harvesting and the one that got way.
I bought a fruit picker at the local Agro store. My father laughed at my “new fangled” picking device. May father finds me just as entertaining now as he did when I was a teenage. Since my role here is to steward ; I don’t mind providing comic relief.
The avocadoes appeared huge quantities. I asked my father if this was the case every year and he assured me he had never seen such a harvest. Many weeks passed with both of us standing in the back yard culling reluctant fruit into our basket. We tsked the fruit that lay ruined on the ground by powerful deluges that frequent our afternoons. We pondered the fruit that appeared to be eaten in the trees; we eventually tallied it up to birds. I learned how to flash freeze. puree with lime juice, and mash the perfect guacamole.
Eventually , the season came to an end leaving only the beautifully ripened fruit suspended 30 ft above ground. Neither, my picker paired with my ladder could access these fruits. I gazed forlornly at them for many days before I got the message:
Everything is not always for you.
Somethings you should enjoy from afar.
To pursue the bright and shiny can sometimes lead to a bad fall.
Enjoy the season and be grateful for the days spent in the sun with your father hunting for avocadoes.