Up the chromatic scale

I got stuck in traffic on my way to Curry College this morning, so while I sat in my car on Interstate 93 waiting to exit onto Route 138 in Canton, I shot a handful of photos of the dusting of new snow on nearby evergreens as well as the snowy summit of Great Blue Hill: a landmark I pass every time I drive to Curry, but I seldom slow down and study.

Years ago when I lived in Randolph, I used to regularly climb to the summit of Great Blue Hill, parking at the Trailside Museum and taking the Red Dot trail to Eliot Tower and beyond. Eliot Tower affords good views of Boston, and if you continue further on the Skyline Trail, the views are even better, the wind-swept patches of exposed granite making you feel as if you were atop a mountain rather than a hill.

In the summer, I’d hear prairie warblers singing atop Great Blue Hill, as the short, scrubby trees there are their preferred habitat. Prairie warblers have a distinctive buzzy song that ascends the chromatic scale: a song I’ve never heard anywhere else and thus associate exclusively with Great Blue Hill.

How far the mind can wander while one’s body is stuck in traffic, thoughts ascending up the chromatic scale like a brilliant buzzing bird.