How glad I am to be able to roam in wood and thicket, among the trees and flowers and rocks. No one can love the country as I do. My bad hearing does not trouble me here. In the country every tree seems to speak to me, saying, ‘Holy! Holy!’ In the woods there is enchantment which expresses all things! . . . Do not forests, trees, rocks re-echo that for which humankind longs?

Beethoven’s music reflects his joy in a summer day, and the drama of a summer storm.