The Jambos are Falling

So we've been in our new digs for a little over a week. The Bergen's house is large and comfortable, but not without it's adjustments. The first night we heard what sounded like the thud of footsteps outside our window. After some investigation we learned it was fruit falling from the trees. It seems our move here has coincided perfectly with jambo season.

Jambos, smaller than an apple and sweet like a strawberry, have been falling ever since from the four large jambo trees. Occasionally neighbors come by asking to pick them, two boys left the other day struggling under the weight of a large shopping bag full the brim with Jambos.


Yesterday, I climbed one of the trees and shook some branches while Ella and Ava held a blanket trying to catch them. We must have looked ridiculous, and the girls were complaining the whole time about the fruit hitting their heads instead of the blanket, but fortunately I don't think anyone saw us. We had heard that Jambos make an excellent crisp. We were not disappointed. I think I'll make another journey up the Jambo tree today, but this time we'll reach perfection because I'm going to buy to a gallon of ice cream to go along with it.