Just at the right time, at the perfect time, the fruit is ready. The ripening process. Survived the winds, sat up high enough, those low hangers were just unlucky, and the fate of the dropped is awful. The whole ruin process stinks. Ants and their running around and nerves. The queens must be demanding. No rest. No relaxation.
Sitting in the middle, firmly attached to the tree. Strong limbs, sunlight gets through mid morning and afternoon, the heat's not so bad. Early dews and plenty of water. Sprayed good for pests, bugs, and the like. Chemicals. No spoiling, only tended and farmed. Only preparing. Invested in the yield. Harvest time will come, but not yet.
Then, one day, when glory has been reached, when taste is at its best, the plucking. Cleaned and washed, wrapped in white, and sent away in a limousine. Unspoiled. Full of vitamins, essential ingredients, and flavor. A pie, a salad, a cake, a smoothie. Raw. Bursting, producing smiles and yums. Product of Texas, made with care.