Contemplating Navel... - er- Nature

In between running around from house to house to house yesterday, I spent three hours sitting in a large yard, and contemplating (while observing) nature.  My parents usually called the time I spent doing that my "contemplating my navel" time.  It's very relaxing, and I'm always astounded by things that I see and hear.  I was out for an  hour this morning, in bright sunshine, and I felt as if I were caught up in a time-lapse photography experiment.  I was sitting in the grass, next to a dandelion plant; and, over the course of one hour, I watched a bud open from tightly closed sepals to an open half-cup that was clasping bright yellow petals that slowly stretched themselves up and out into the sun.  When I returned several hours later, there was a perfectly formed flower soaking up the sun's rays. I did not see every bit of unfurling and opening that happened with this single blossom - I kept looking elsewhere, and then looking back at the bud.  My only unhappiness in that idyllic atmosphere was the lack of bees.  Normally, at this time of year, the dandelions and a few other early blooming flowers are the only food available for bees and wasps, and normally the yard would be swarming with bees at this time - I saw only one large bumblebee, and no honey bees.  There used to be multiple hives in the neighborhood, and the sound of humming, busy bees was almost narcotic.  Most hives are completely empty this spring.
   This afternoon, while checking out the progress of the dandelion bloom, I had several butterflies land on top of my head, and was amazed at the loud rustle of wings that I heard from them.  I also cataloged bird songs in my mind, and realized that I could hear over 20 different calls coming from the yard and those on the three sides.  Raising my eyes, I could see all kinds of small birds flitting among the trees and bushes.  I watched a pair of warblers gather small withies from the willow tree; it seemed almost as if they were comparing the length and circumference of the small green twigs, dropping some, while keeping others.  Flickers, nut hatches, woodpeckers, robins and magpies were around in abundance.  I looked beside me and saw a tiny spider bumble off a piece of grass and into the path of an ant.  The ant attacked the spider, and I last saw the ant carrying the spider away - I presume back to the nest.
   I then had to laugh while standing at the corner of Redwood Avenue and 19th Street.  I was, as usual, waiting for the 204 bus.  Hector, a friend who is from Peru, is the usual driver, and I also normally see my friend Adolfo, on his way to the Pearl Street Mall.  They let me practice my Spanish, and I tell Adolfo the American words for certain things.  Yesterday, I reached the bus stop about ten minutes later than I normally do.  As I came to a halt beside the bus stop sign, a large crow flew over my head, from across the street, and landed on the roof of the house behind me.  My husband told me many times that he would come back and visit me (or haunt me) as a crow or raven.  I turned to the crow, and said, "Good morning, my love. You look extremely handsome and sleek today."  A bicyclist was approaching me, and he slowed down and stopped as I spoke.  The crow bobbed its head, and cawed at me.  Then he flew up, and circled around me three times, each time getting closer and closer.  The bicyclist looked as if his eyes were going to pop out of his head.  I could hear the wind whistling in the crow's feathers, as it arced around and over me.  I kept my face turned toward it, kept laughing, and said, "I love you, too, sweetheart!"    The bus stopped, the crow settled onto the road verge less than a yard from me, the man on the bike said, "I thought it was going to swoop down and try to carry you away!" And Hector and Adolfo were looking out the open door with their mouths hanging open.  I  looked at the crow, and said, "Sorry, honey, but I have to go home now," and I got on the bus.  The man with the bike started to ride away.  The bus began to move, and the crow flew up, dove at the front window, and then flew away.  Hector and Adolfo  are now convinced that I am a witch and have special powers over animals.  I just laughed.