Just when I picked a title

When we came back from Utah this summer, I fell in love with mangoes. I am very picky, though, and I really only like the mangoes that come from our beautiful tree. The tree itself covered half our house, reaching its fingers almost to our windows and creeping around the corners of the roof. The mangoes were huge, Edenic fruits, and the moment I picked one, juice dribbled out from the stem. I was even willing to risk my life for mangoes. Just when I thought they were all gone, I spotted the "flame" of yellow way up in the upper branches, so I climbed as high as I could in the tree, then balanced myself so I could use both hands to loft the fruit-picker pole up toward the last mango and pull it down. By the end of mango season, I decided "mango season" was the title of my blog -- a blog full of the sweet, juicy, sticky stories of our family. But I don't know what to call it now. Our tree has been "trimmed," but that barely describes it. If I said I was going to get a my hair trimmed and came out with half my teeth missing and hair growing sparsely in patches, that's the kind of "trim" we're talking about here. I guess I will keep my blog as "mango season" for now, but only to try not to hurt my poor tree's feelings. Don't worry, baby! It will all grow back again! Someday!