We are with Henry Hood and wife (very slight acquaintance); we are on a raft; actually looking for bricks: every brick was broken. I didn't want H. to see me scrounging for bricks; H. said: they'd been by our house: "Bread, wine, sale and friends." We are having a picnic on a blanket: two or three kinds of wine and cheese, I take some of it home; at the evening meal I look forward to the wine: I bring in wine "boiled." I said, "It doesn't matter if it is warm or cold"; I see glass and bottle teeming with flying ants. (It is a Rose wine); I had to pour it all down the drain; angry at him; "Why did I d that?" Maybe heating it because he didn't see or care... did not heat wine in order to kill them.