The Antsy Season

I can tell it is December even without a calendar; December is when the ants arrive every year in my kitchen.

They start with just a trickle, a few scouts to see if they like the environs; apparently they do, as the flood is close behind.

I can't tell what they come for - they rarely invade even sugar left out on the counter, or stray bread crumbs, or any of the things you might expect would attract ants. Some say they just come in to get out of the rain. Whatever; come they do, every year like clockwork, just around the holidays, the better to embarrass me in front of family and friends.

I hate using pesticides, so I have opted instead for discouraging them with scented powders across their entry points. A long-term resident of the Point, the warm and charming Bob Peckham, reassured me that it isn't just me, that everyone in the Point has ants at this time of year, and taught me that sprinkling baby powder or cinnamon at their entry points would turn them away, so I've done that for the past ten years or so and it works amazingly well. A few of the little stinkers slip through but they just serve these days to remind me of Bob, who is in heaven now charming the saints.

I get antsy every December now; it's a holiday tradition, like putting up the wreath on the door and buying a poinsettia.