too much to explain

If I had time (and ability), I'd write an essay about how all this wound up in the windowsill. The short story (re the most obvious material here) is that I tried to save some tiny marigolds for an upcoming (November 24) workshop but only a few of them persevered until now. I now know none will last until the workshop, but here, on the windowsill, are a few blooms that are still quite pretty. Pretty is obviously "in the eyes of the beholder."