The country mouse...

The country can be quiet, of course.  Warm evenings with the sun stretching its shoulders and giving a breathtaking "technicolor yawn" on its way to bed...  Noises of the night birds and the sound of your wooden rocker creaking...
Then the kids come chasing through!  Ah, excitement!  ;) 
"Mommy, he took my popsicle!"
"Did not!"
"Did too!" (insert high-pitched whine).

In short, I'm having too much fun to write right now.  Guess I'm getting life experience. (“How vain it is to sit down to write when you have not stood up to live.” - Henry David Thoreau)

If only it was always this enjoyable to gain experience.  I don't even have to go outside to watch horses cantering across their field or have a fuzzy white dog curl up between my feet. 

I can't say that the city is better than the country for writing.  They both have their points.  I can find as many plots in an afternoon of listening to the radio/tv as I can by riding home on the light rail.  But (as long as the kids aren't doing their chores with the help of their MP3 players), I will say I can think better in the country.  I don't have to try to drown out the sound of vulgar language, the heartbreaking cries of a fussy toddler, or the strident voices of people who never learned to argue in private.  If I happen to find myself typing the lyrics of the song that's blaring in from the kitchen, at least I can be sure it won't be anything that has me reaching for the mental Clorox bottle!