The Julie mangoes dropped first — they always do. Small, sweet, the ones the neighbours look forward to. We filled a crate and left it at the gate. It was empty by the next morning.
The big mango tree at the back of the garden takes another two or three weeks. Those are the ones you eat standing up, juice down your arm, not worth fighting over a plate. Léon has been checking it every morning.
The garden produces without much asking. Anaïs planned it that way — fruit trees timed to follow each other through the season, so there’s always something coming in. After the mangoes it’ll be the papayas, then the passion fruit climbing the fence by the terrace.
Guests who arrive in April or May get to eat from the trees. We leave a basket in the A-frame and ask people to help themselves. Nobody has ever said no.
