The following is adapted from the author’s new book, Crush: My Year as an Apprentice Winemaker.
It’s fall and we’re infested. Clouds of fruit flies fill the air. They buzz around my wife Lisa and me at dinner. They chew the chilies hanging in our kitchen, raining a fine red powder on the floor. They roost on the cupboards. They fornicate on the refrigerator. They threaten to overpopulate our house and our Seattle neighborhood as well.
“You have them, too,” says a neighbor. “They’re bad this year!”
“Yes,” I say, nodding, as if it’s an act of God. But it’s no accident that our house and neighborhood are infested. A
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