It wasn’t at all cold last night when we arrived home from Kelvington after picking up pizza (and the groceries we bought while waiting a half-hour for it) for supper. There didn’t seem to be any need to cover plants in the garden. But I’m told this morning that it did freeze again. If this is the case, the garden should be done and produce no more, which means we won’t be storing the usual overabundance of tomatoes and peppers for the winter.
I’m not bothered. There are still tomatoes and peppers in the deep freeze from last year. We’ve had some tasty feeds from the one zucchini plant already. C’est la vie. Less chopping! That’s fine with me.
Because I’ve invited you (it’s in the sidebar: Have Your Cake & Eat It Too) to follow me on Instagram, lately I’ve been trying to post something to it every day. But do you think it’s simple? Sure it is, but not for me. For instance, to my first photo/post (made months ago when the account was set up), some text was added beneath. Now I can’t figure out how I did it. Where is that option? Beats me. I’ve clicked on every icon and still don’t see a place to write something, except for on the photo itself. Ah, the learning curve. Some days I hate it so. You laugh, you who use Instagram with ease and frequency! You shake your head at my ineptitude! You and me both.
Am I tech-challenged? It seems so. Look what happened while following those men into the old farmyard:
Or when taking photos with my swanky new phone (thank you, Gunnar), apparently this is what happens when you zoom in too close:
Wouldn’t you think that with all the pictures I’ve taken for this and previous blogs over these many years, I’d’ve gotten good at it? But no.
This I don’t mind, as I aspire to nothing in that area, but it does make me wonder. Sometimes the simplest things are beyond me.
Here’s a fer-instance. One morning when Scott was away, I made weak coffee and decided to run it through the pot again for more strength. This created a dilemma for I couldn’t pour brewed coffee into the water reservoir, could I? Mightn’t that create some sort of problem down the line? Plug something up? Leave a residue that shouldn’t be there? I stood scratching my head, wondering how to otherwise go about getting some decent coffee, before finally it occurred to me that the coffee only had to be poured over the grounds in the brew-basket, not into the the water reservoir. So simple … so obvious … but there was I, assuming it must be done the ridiculous and unnecessary way. Story of my life! That’s me; not nearly as smart as I think I am. Or used to.