In the continual quest to match music to landscape, today’s choice might seem a bit odd. Who tramps through the suburbs listening to Brahms’ German Requiem?

Someone who loves the piece and believes it ennobles whatever they see while listening to it, I suppose.

And so the stilt grass, that long-legged invasive, looked more like slender bamboo fronds waving. And the Joe Pye weed was more elegant, more proudly purple, than its usual shaggy self. 

The shaded trails embraced me, the meadow views broadened my vision, and the pond gleamed golden in the morning light. 

It was an ordinary walk made extraordinary by the music in my ears.