My log cabin in upstate New York has been the retreat from the city that my parents, friends, and family have flocked to since I was two years old. For the past 29 years (go ahead, do the math), we’ve spent countless holidays, long weekends, and what felt like endless stretches of hot summer days and cool firepit nights enjoying both the cabin and the dense forest surrounding it. But with the country, of course, come the critters, and while I’ve become used to them, it’s always a bit of a riot to see who will scream over a spider (we all always marvel at the deer). The one insect I can’t get used to indoors, however, are the ants that invariably manage to find their way into the kitchen.
Ants aren’t a rural phenomenon, as anyone (myself included) who has ever left a crumb behind on their counter will tell you. It always seems as if ants find a way to get in and then tell all their relatives about it, and before you know it, there’s a line of them stemming from god-knows-where to your countertops—and into your pantry.