Somehow I'm never prepared for the onslaught of fruit flies. I always expect to see them during... well... fruit season. And perhaps that's when they used to arrive, but lately they seem to fly in on the heels of the post-summer harvest.
I lifted the lid of the kitchen waste can tonight and a tornado of the microscopic insects rose to greet me. The cloud that followed me around while I tried to prepare dinner rivaled the dirt storm that follows the Peanuts character Pig Pen.
Someone once told me that if you put some apple cider vinegar in the bottom of a glass, fruit flies will inch down for a few sips - and then die.
Well the insects in our neck of the woods seem to thrive on the vinegar the way old grandpa Jake thrives on moonshine up there in the thickets of the Blue Ridge Mountains. I put the glass of apple cider vinegar on the counter and sure enough the fruit flies honed in - but only one or two succumbed. The rest seem to be spreading word there's good drinkin' in the local area. My glass of vinegar has turned into the local watering hole. Soon there will be enough of the critters to carry the glass off to wherever they want to set up party headquarters.
I'll be happy to transport the glass to wherever they want to go - I won't even charge a deposit.
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