Maybe serene settings are too relaxing for working at writing and painting. This is an RV Park in Massachusetts and the leaves are still soft and pale like infants. It’s quiet. So quiet you can hear the barred owl whoosh from one tree nearby to another, meet his friend and whoosh away. Then a shriek breaks my reverie and a night hawk is announcing his arrival. A chipmunk noses out some Bulgar wheat I poured out on top of the head stone at the fire pit. Ah Ha, Tex the cat is interested. I don’t know how he heard Mr. Munk but Mr. Cat flattens out his body and watches, motionless but swiveled eared. How can I work with all these distractions! The food chain playing out. The hawk holds the power. I better get my cat in.