It's for the birds.

Apartment living has its perks as I have realized over the past couple of years. A friendly eighty year old man comes to unclog my garbage disposal when I drop in too many eggs and doesn't scold me despite his visit for a similar problem a few weeks before. I don't have a lawn to mow. Friends in the same complex are a short walk away. I am only 30 second walk away from a pool, and I have "free" access to a gym that I feel like I can tell myself I "go to" if I drop in a couple of times a month.

However, my previous two residences were rental houses, and there is one thing that I can't deny I miss. My apartment has a sizable patio, but it in no way can compare to having a yard. Yes, I love my porch bench and could sit there for hours, but a concrete slab doesn't stand a chance against a bed of grass flowers and trees. After I first moved into my apartment a couple of years ago, I purchased a slew of bulbs, potting soil, and clay pots to try to create my own "garden" on my concrete slab. However, before I opened the packages, I realized that my porch faced in a direction that received no direct sunlight. The tags on the plants I had chosen of course implied that my gardening attempts would fail without that ingredient. Discouraged, I took everything back to the store and put the idea on the back burner.

A couple of months ago, after I had a bad day, Jeff came over and told me he had something for me in his trunk. I waited upstairs and he brought up a beautiful fern for my porch, only one of the many many thoughtful things he has done for me that I don't deserve. He helped me hang it up, and my porch garden came back to light. He has since added sweet basil and citronella, which I am happy to say, unlike the bulbs I previously selected, love the shade my porch has to offer.

The next few days I sat outside on my bench eating breakfast and noticed that several house finches had taken a liking to the fern too. I didn't think much about it until I saw some twigs sticking out of the side of the plant when I went to water. Apparently, the house finches not only liked the fern, but decided to take up residence.

As soon as I realized there was a small nest nestled in my fern, I took every measure to learn all I could about house finches. Meaning, I googled. I love a google search. I learned what the male and females looked like, confirming that my flying house guests were indeed house finches. I learned about their nesting habits, incubation time of the eggs, and more than you probably care to hear. I'll stop.

The nest started with 3 eggs, and then the number grew to 5 overnight. A few days later, two eggs had gone missing. One more day and one of the remaining eggs was on the ground of my porch, and one had turned dark brown. This left one light blue, and from what I could gather, healthy egg.

Every morning, I pulled a kitchen chair out to the patio, watered the side of the fern opposite of the nest and checked for any change in the nest. A few days before I left for my vacation, when attempting to water, I saw something different. Instead of an egg, there was a pink little body covered in white fuzz. I was thrilled. I won't try to hide my excitement about the baby bird. I am writing a whole blog about it, so if you are judging me, it already happened a few paragraphs ago. I can take it.

A friend was sweet enough to water my fern for me for the week I was on vacation each day, even with my persistent instructions and warnings to not drown the baby bird in exchange for a bottle of vanilla from Mexico.

When I came home, the baby was still there to my surprise but had much more resemblance to it's parents. I continued to water on my patio each morning, surprised that the bird was still in the nest after a few weeks after hatching.

So continued my morning routine. Until Tuesday. Things got interesting. After I had poured half of the water into the plant, I heard a quiet chirp and the baby bird shot out of the nest and started flapping it's wings. It made a quick....descent to the ground, where it sat very still. Too still I thought.

Panic ensued. I was that kid. The mean one on the playground who pushes the toddler over when they are learning to walk (I hope no one really does that. I think I saw it in a movie once). Flying....walking...maybe this was a little different but at the moment it didn't feel like it. The momma bird flew to the nest looked in to see nothing and looked around before flying away. Great, now not only had I sent the baby to the ground away from its home, but also would be the cause of mother/child abandonment issues.

I walked downstairs and started climbing behind the bushes where the bird was sitting in the corner not moving. My next door neighbor walked up and asked me what I was doing (for good reason. It was 7:30 am and I was in the bushes in a dress) to which I responded with a panic filled explanation of what happened. She reminded me about the cats that wander around our building and recommended I go get some gloves to try to bring the baby home to it's nest on the 2nd floor.

I sent a text to my coworkers to let them know I would be late to work because I was trying to rescue a baby bird. One replied something about my "kind heart". She didn't know I was the one who had created the need for rescue in the first place. I didn't correct her.

After a quick trip upstairs and back down, I was sneaking around behind the bushes in a summer maxi dress, black fleece winter gloves and carrying a shoebox. More residents pulling out of the complex to go to work slowed down to look than I care to mention.

When I got close to the baby, to my surprise, it flew up and away. My rescue attempt was in vain. Thankfully. Nature took its course, the baby's instincts kicked in, and I was reminded once again that I can't control everything.

For a few weeks, I shared a small portion of my living space. I watched a finch build a nest and lay eggs and saw a baby bird the day after it was born. After weeks of waiting, I saw the baby bird fly away, in a more climactic ending than I would care to repeat, but still memorable and beautiful. 

This morning, the nest was empty and the momma bird was nowhere to be seen. Maybe she will be back to lay more eggs soon. Maybe not. Regardless, I think I need to invest in a long nosed watering can or a lengthening chain to reduce the need for the kitchen chair.

Unlike Tuesday, I got to work on time today. My shoebox and winter gloves are back where they belong. In the closet.

Maybe my neighbors will write off the site they saw as morning entertainment and never mention it, but if they do bring up my strange attire and mannerisms, I know what I will say. "It was for the birds."

High Tea at Sea.

There are some things in life, it seems, that receive a lot of "hype". Miley Cyrus, Justin Bieber, fried foods at the fair, acrylic nails (the after effects aren't worth it, ladies...after 5 years my nails have finally recovered), self imposed dietary restrictions, coffee with 5 preceding adjectives (decaf nonfat light soy vanilla latte anyone?), and reality television to name a few.

For the past few years, as May rolled around, large groups of my friends boarded cruise ships together. Each time, they came back raving about the vacation and rearing to plan a new one for the next year.

My previous opinion of cruise ships was formed from a 20/20 special I watched several years ago. In the hour span of television, ABC successfully convinced me that cruise ships were indeed cesspools and that there was a 90% chance that if I went on one, my life would turn into a television special titled, Unsolved Mysteries: Cruise Edition, after I was drugged, dragged, or dropped  in the bottom of the cruise ship or on the shores of what would be sold to me as "paradise". Dramatic? Perhaps. Persuasive? Absolutely.

I stopped watching 20/20...for obvious reasons. Turns out basing your life decisions off of the worst possible scenarios that happen to less that 1 percent of the population is no way to live. Unless you enjoy breathing in paper bags and anxiety attacks.

After the initial shock of televised cruise nightmares wore off, I booked a cruise last May on the Carnival Triumph. If you watched the news between January and May of last year, that name may ring a bell. Long story short, the ship caught on fire, passengers were stranded, and my vacation was cancelled. My friends and I booked a beach house in Gulf Shores instead that same week, and I put "cruising" where I thought it belonged, on the "hype" list.

Turns out I am fickle in my opinions and easily persuaded (especially when offered a discount for my previous year's inconvenience) and booked a cruise for last week on that same ship with one of my closest friends.

I returned on Saturday, recant my "hype" statement, and am ready to write 20/20 a letter asking them to cease playing reruns of their cruise special.

I traveled to a country I had never visited, spent an unhealthy (but heavenly) number of hours in the sun, learned to Salsa dance, learned about the Mayan culture, swam in the clearest water I have ever seen, took a cooking class, danced in the dining room, ate more food than I care to mention, watched a hairy chest competition that gave MTV spring break a run for their money, and spent hours watching the waves (did you know that ocean sparkles?!).

Though the hairy chest competition and salsa dancing were noteworthy, that's not what I want to talk about.

 On the second day of the cruise, my friend and I took a look at the itinerary for the day at sea to
schedule breaks from basking in the sun (turns out spf 30 can't hold out for long against the sun's rays). 3 pm marked "tea time" in the main dining room. We jumped on the chance to eat dessert in the middle of the afternoon, attempted to look presentable after swimming in saltwater, and the waiter led us to a table. We were seated next to two women in their late 70's named Joann Lily and Shirley Freeman.

We quickly learned that Joann and Shirley were not only seasoned cruise goers but also seasoned vacationers in general. Not only had they been on 10 plus cruises, but also made roadtrips a priority. Crystal Bridges in Arkansas was next on their list.

As we all filled our teacups from our individual teapots, we exchanged stories about our families and lives in general. Both Shirley and Joann had been widowed for several years. From what I understood, Joann had been widowed twice. When she talked about her late husband, her eyes lit up. She said,"He was an angel sent down to me as a little piece of heaven. I could talk all day about him."

Joann and I exchanged stories about meeting strangers on vacation and how interesting it is to hear others' stories. Joann said "When you are friendly, you are sure to make friends wherever you go."

Amen to that. On the cruise ship last week, it fascinated me that more than 3,000 people were sharing the same space. All with different stories, and many from different parts of the world. I met people who had traveled to Europe countless times, couples who made it a point to cruise one week out of the month, and a couple who was on their honeymoon. I met a grandfather that used the phrase "as cute as a button" to describe his granddaughter.  I even met a 93 year old woman named Bernice at brunch who informed me of the benefits of eating ice cream. "It melts and goes into all the empty places," she said with a sly grin. "I would be in trouble if it all piled up."

Though each of these groups of people had never crossed paths before, they all had one thing in common. They were sharing experiences, sharing life, and making memories with people they loved.

Do you ever sit and think about what a small speck you are on the earth? While the thought could be intimidating, I don't think it has to be. I think maybe that is the way God intended it to be. When I think about it, it is so exciting that there are so many places to see, so many people to meet, and even better so many stories to hear. Joann and Shirley may have been in their seventies, but they were young at heart. They saw the world in front of them, and they were ready to see it.

After last week in Mexico and my trip to Canada several years ago, I have North America covered, at least enough to check it off the list for now. Perhaps its time to cross the big pond (is that the trendy thing to say these days?) to attend high tea on land.

For now, I'll have to settle for high tea at my friend's apartment. I'll take it. Whether in Tulsa, Oklahoma, on the high sea or thousands of miles across the world, I am so thankful God has placed so many people in my life who I love, people to share adventures with and learn from, people to laugh and cry with, people to travel with, and people to do everyday life with. People God Himself has written in my story to teach me what His love looks like and to walk alongside me as I learn about the world He created.

I raise my tea cup (or should I say my pinky) to many more trips with friends, family and loved ones, new places on the map, new memories, and living life with a young heart no matter the year on the calendar. Thanks to our new friends Joann and Shirley for sharing high tea and letting us be a part of your memories and helping us make new ones of our own.