Free-Range Musicians To Perform this Thursday and Friday

Unlike industrially raised music, the original compositions of the Sustainable Jazz Ensemble are performed by musicians who live their lives roaming freely outside of cages. In addition to the obvious benefits for the performers, music performed by free range musicians is said to be higher in nutritive value.

You can sample locally grown compositions like Scrambled Eggs and Lemon Merengue while eating lunch on Palmer Square tomorrow (Thursday) from 12 to 2pm, as part of Palmer Square's Lunchtime Music on the Green series. Thanks to Palmer Square for having us.

We'll also be performing for free this Friday from 6:30 - 8pm, surrounded by and taking inspiration from books in the basement of Labyrinth Bookstore. The trio is composed of Jerry D'Anna on bass, Ron Connor on piano, and myself on saxophone, clarinet and woodpile.

Note: To supplement your musical diet, you can hear selections from our repertoire at www.myspace.com/sustainablejazz. Upcoming performances are usually listed here.

A Magical History Tour

It seemed a straightforward drive out into the country, to help a currently carless friend check out a cottage to rent at a small farm. The farm came with 40 sheep, which help mow the neighbors' lawns, and a retired draft horse named Gentle Ben. I found the big horse with the ornate Clydesdale-like hoofs impressive, though if this picture looks curiously composed, it's because I cropped off my daughter holding her nose. Kids tend to exaggerate.

Away from the animals was a fire circle, the likes of which people have told me they wished could be had in Princeton for gatherings of youth groups like the Girl Scouts.

On the way back, the trip took on new dimensions when we stopped out of curiosity at an old country railway station, which came equiped with its very own steam engine, built by the American Locomotive Company back in 1937.

Nearby were an assortment of old train cars and retired cabooses. Some had "stay off" signs, others did not, and the general feel of the place suggested an unstaffed, informal railroad museum.

Seeing no signs disallowing it, we decided to explore the steam engine's cab, packed with levers of many shapes and obscure functions. Lower in the photo you can see a cupholder (a design feature that anticipated the mounting of cup holders on strollers many decades later). Careful examination of all the surrounding levers suggested that this is where the engineer would make his cappuccino during long cross-country trips.

An informal museum can be more "transporting" than the standard formal variety. There was a feeling that these train cars are not necessarily at their final resting place, but might still get taken out for a spin now and then. The smell of oil on metal, and the pre-digital, straightforward nature of the place made us all forget the hurried, multi-tasking cellphone age waiting in our pockets. There is something refreshingly direct in a cord that travels from an engineer's cab down the barrel of the engine to a brass bell,

and the simple utility of a windshield wiper on a caboose.

Even the weeds were authentic, reminiscent of what I used to see along rail lines in the midwest: Wooly Mullein, Queen Anne's Lace, bull thistle, sweet clover and, less endearing, given past run-ins with its invasive capacities, spotted knapweed.

Back in Hopewell, we stopped briefly at their fine old train station, complete with a functioning rail line behind it, and a class in english dancing underway inside. We thought the history tour was over,

until we passed by a gas station on Hopewell's main drag, where some horseless carriages had paused on their journey to Princeton.

The proud owner of a 1905 Oldsmobile even offered to give each of us a ride. One cylinder, two gears, a rudder instead of a steering wheel, and a smooth quiet ride. "The first mass-produced horseless carriage," he said. The Model T was still a few years off. I thought it would get great gas mileage, but he guessed around 18 mpg. The carburetor leaks more gas than it passes along to the engine, he said.

Like my daughter, he emphasized the unflattering aspects of horses, referring to the 10,000 pounds of manure produced in New York City each day before horseless carriages came along.

Future histories, written in a world transformed by climate change, will look more kindly on Gentle Ben than on the machines that followed, but it was a charming bit of serendipity to happen upon so much free-range history out and about on a Sunday afternoon.

Weeding--An Expression of Love or Intolerance?

The New York Times has published a couple curious opinion pieces recently about introduced species. The general conclusion offered is that we should learn to live with all the introduced weeds rather than try to counter those that prove destructive and invasive. One opinion piece, entitled "Mother Nature's Melting Pot", actually suggests that people who fight against any non-native species are nativistic and xenophobic.

It's strange to see such naive and fatalistic thinking finding space in the newspaper of record. Weeding my garden the other evening, I found the act to be informed not by xenophobia but by love. When I was done, hundreds of nut sedge (non-native) and silver maple seedlings (native) were lying in a heap. Spared were a dozen far less aggressive species that would have otherwise been lost in a weedy tide. I have nothing against nut sedge, which has a beautiful inflorescence, or silver maples, which when not producing a million seeds are providing shade and air conditioning. It's just that I like other plant species, too, and experience shows that the nut sedge and maple seedlings in my backyard have imperialistic tendencies.

On a much larger scale, the Friends of Rogers Refuge have been fighting a several acres' infestation of Phragmitis (non-native) which would if left undeterred eventually turn a richly diverse wetland into a monoculture of greatly reduced habitat value.

The paradox is there for anyone to see. People who love plants spend a lot of time killing some of them in defense of the plants and diversity they love. A ready analogy is the act of editing, in which the love of writing leads to an unsentimental excision of weedy words.

The new conceit, expressed in the above-mentioned opinion piece and a subsequent one entitled "The Price of Liberty: Weeds", seems to be that we should abandon largely futile resistance and open our minds to an agreeable acquiescence. Since some weeds introduced from other continents are relatively benign, or even have positive attributes, it is then argued that we should accept any and all introduced species wherever they want to grow. The result of this laissez-faire approach, promoted as a liberation from intolerance, is actually the promotion of "intolerant" plants--the subset of weeds whose aggressive behavior diminishes biodiversity over time.

Though dressed up in a newspaper as synonymous with tolerance, this "let it be" approach plays out in the field as just another form of neglect.

Harrison Street Raingarden in July

Another sight to be seen from Hamilton Avenue is the raingarden at Spruce Circle, just up from the intersection of Hamilton and Harrison Street. Type "raingarden" into the search box at the upper left of this blog and you'll find posts showing the raingarden in various seasons.

In July, the switchgrass (foreground) is fully grown, and the JoePyeWeed is in full flower (tall and purple).

A view uphill from the raingarden shows the long roof that feeds the garden during rains.

Here's a view from uphill looking down. Rain flows through the downspouts and out onto the grass, then down to the raingarden, where it collects and infiltrates into the ground over the next 24 hours or so, creating a nice underground reservoir of moisture to feed the roots of the wildflowers through droughts. Only in the most extreme droughts, such as the two-month long drought last year, does watering prove necessary.

Scattered through town, taking advantage of wet, sunny spots, raingardens like this one serve as lifelines for pollinators otherwise starved by the trees n' turf landscaping dictated by convention.

New Sprout Next To Princeton's "Mother Elm"

Keep riding up Hamilton Ave. and it starts changing names, which is one of the exciting things about living in Princeton. You think you're on one lazy street, when suddenly, unbeknownst to you, it has changed itself into another.

Hamilton Ave. is one of the most dynamic stretches of asphalt in this respect, perhaps in all the world, because it begins as Tyson Lane down in the lowlands of the east, then transforms itself in the blink of an eye into Littlebrook Road. Before you know it, it's changed again into Rollingmead Street, then settles into Hamilton Avenue for a good six blocks before whimsically becoming Wiggins Street. Subtle clues, which I have yet to discern, tell you if you're on a lane or a road or a street or an avenue.

Just before Wiggins is about to give up the ghost to become Paul Robeson Place, across from the public library, a glance into the cemetery will reveal a new American Elm growing next to the stump-shaped gravestone of the great "mother elm". Unlike many distinguished denizens of Princeton, the "mother elm" did not win a Nobel Prize, but it did earn an article in the NY Times at the time of its passing in 2005, telling of its glorious past and contributions to society. Those are some big shoes for the new tree to fill, but it appears unfazed.

Nut Sedge and Bindweed

My daughter says that what she likes about bike riding is that you're going just the right speed to see everything as you go by. A bike ride up Hamilton Ave. offered some fine displays of weeds for general edification. Most people would see in this photo a royal spread of turf meant to set off Westminster Conservatory to its best advantage. But what I noticed is the expanse of Nut Sedge spreading through the lower parts of the lawn. It's the light green in the photo, contrasting with the darker green of the turfgrass.

You likely have Nut Sedge growing in your garden. Like all sedges, it has a triangular stem. Most sedges are native and perennial. This one is non-native and an annual. It pulls out of the ground very easily, but is intimidating in its abundance. Either keep it well pulled, or suppress it with mulch, or, if you don't mind it taking over your garden, enjoy the attractive inflorescence it constructs on top of the stem.

As to what can be done about such an invasion of traditional turf, it's doing a good job of defining where Westminster could plant an expansive raingarden to feed the local pollinators and birds.

Further up Hamilton Ave., a fine display of Bindweed, the weedy member of the morning glory family, here seen crawling over boxwoods and a fence. Like Nut Sedge, it can be very hard to get rid of, but staying on top of the weeding will slowly starve the underground portion.

Diverting a Neighbor's Runoff Away From the House

During heavy downpours like yesterday's, water from my neighbor's driveway used to head straight for my house. This flow of water from one property into another is a common source of tension between neighbors.

Rather than complain, I dumped some extra dirt under some bushes on that side of my yard, forming a berm that redirects the neighbor's water towards the front of my lot. The water flows into a raingarden under the dogwood tree, where a buried, perforated pipe carries any unabsorbed water out to the sidewalk.

It's subtle, but you may be able to see the water flowing across the sidewalk into the row of hostas.

The goals here are 1) divert water away from my foundation, to reduce humidity in the basement, 2) capture some runoff in a raingarden so it has time to infiltrate into the ground to feed the trees, 3) use the city stormwater system in the street as an escape valve for any extra water the raingarden can't hold.

The only drawback is that, if you want to have the satisfaction of seeing that the system works, you have to go out in the rain, which, after the lightning and thunder has passed over, may not feel like a drawback at all.

Struggling Trees Amidst the Splendor

Walking home from the Dinky through Princeton University's campus, my eye was drawn to two struggling trees amidst the splendor:

Why browned oak leaves in early summer?

Maybe this newly planted tree, with only a few green leaves left at the tips of branches, simply didn't get enough water, but another factor is its size. The bigger the tree being transplanted, the bigger the shock, not to mention the sticker shock. Hopefully it will recover and leaf out fully next spring.

Signs telling of recent pesticide application don't give one the warmest feeling,

but it's the only way to keep some of the university's remaining American elms alive (probably through injection into the trunk). This one isn't as graceful as some elms, but shows the distinctive vase-like shape that made elms such a wonderful street tree before Dutch Elm disease arrived on the continent.

Early Summer Wildflowers

A nice native combination this time of year is black-eyed susan in front of bottlebrush grass. These, along with cutleaf coneflower, tall meadow rue, wild senna and other local natives, I included in a miniature raingarden planting along the sidewalk at Whole Earth Center on Nassau Street.

Some white flowers to keep an eye out for are bottlebrush buckeye (in front of Mountain Lakes House),

buttonbush (along the edge of Carnegie Lake and the canal),

and Lizard's Tail (also found along the edge of Carnegie Lake).

Chicory Time

It's the time of year when blue weedy flowers start popping up along Harrison Street. My interest in wildflowers was first piqued by what grew along roadsides in the midwest--salsify, bouncing bet, wooly mullen, dame's rocket, teasel--nearly all of them non-native. Each had nice details in the flowers when I'd stop to take a look. This one's chicory, whose root was widely used during the Civil War as a coffee substitute.

On Tree Planting, And Believing in the Future

Having followed my kids to many a playground, I've noticed that parks often lack strategically placed shade trees. The result is burning hot play equipment in the summer. You'd think the planting of shade trees would be almost automatic in such situations, given that direct sun can otherwise render the equipment untouchable for hours at a stretch.

But even when I suggest trees be planted, I'm told that big trees are too expensive, and little trees take too long to grow.

This tree in Potts Park, then, is something of a contrary act. Donated by parents who wanted to celebrate their new son's arrival, it was planted with the conviction that time passes, trees grow, and the future will come.

Sustainable Jazz Ensemble--Free Performances in July at Labyrinth

My jazz trio will be performing among the subterranean bookshelves of the Labyrinth this month. Press release below. More info about the group, and links to some of the music, can be found at sustainablejazz.com.

JAZZ IN JULY AT LABYRINTH
_____________
Sustainable Jazz Ensemble
Stephen Hiltner, Jerry d'Anna, Ron Connor
every other Friday in July starting the 1st:
July 1, 15 & 29,   6:30 to 8PM
Labyrinth Books, 122 Nassau Street, Princeton, 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Labyrinth is bringing back summertime jazz with 3 more performance by the Sustainable Jazz Ensemble: free and free-range, sustainable jazz. Coffee and tea will be provided; otherwise b.y.o. and join us for an informal evening of outstanding music.

Based in Princeton the Sustainable Jazz Ensemble plays all-original jazz composed using only local, organic ingredients, natural chord progressions and solar-powered imaginations. No virgin timbres are harvested for their performances.The music combines fresh melodies, inventive arrangements and improvisation.

The players: Best known in town for his environmental work, STEVE HILTNER is a longtime jazz saxophonist and composer who in his life-before-Princeton was musical director for an all-originals jazz/latin group in Ann Arbor, called the Lunar Octet. The group played festivals in Michigan and beyond, including three performances at the Montreux Detroit Jazz Festival. Steve got his start in jazz in the II-V-I Orchestra, playing gigs with many of the top players on the Detroit jazz scene, including a pre-Miles Kenny Garrett. During that time, he studied sax improvisation with Sam Sanders, an instructor at Oakland University and former student of Detroit jazz legend, Yusef Lateef. JERRY D'ANNA is a versatile freelance bass player, doubling on both electric and acoustic basses. His work with jazz, theater, folk, rock and blues bands has taken him from his native metro New York-Philadelphia environs to tours in Europe and the Caribbean, with such notables as singers Jeanie Bryson, Barbara McNair and Frank D'Rone, trumpeters Michael Mossman and Terence Blanchard, drummer Elvin Jones, saxophonists Sonny Fortune and Pat LaBarbara, and pianists Kenny Barron, Steve Kramer and John Bianculli. Mr. D'Anna received a Bachelor of Arts degree in music from Rutgers University, and studied privately with Rick Laird, Larry Ridley, Homer Mensch, Lou Kosma and Lisle Atkinson. Now settled in the Princeton area, he works in the financial services software industry, performing locally with the Midiri Brothers Orchestra and Jerry Rife's Rhythm Kings. Joining on key-boards is pianist and composer RON CONNOR, who attended Berklee College of Music in Boston, and has been composing and playing popular, jazz and improvisational music for three decades. A Princeton resident, Ron continues to explore and create music for solo piano, dramatic scores and jazz.

open to the public; wheelchair accessible

Community Park Elementary Gets New Learning Habitat

The science teacher at Community Park school continues to transform the grounds. In the back courtyard area, a wildflower planting now has seating for 20, the better to listen to the garden grow.

And some words by Van Gogh.

Out in front, off Witherspoon, changes are harder to notice. New trees are popping up in the lawn, giving a hint of habitat to come.

FOPOS Trail Committee Installs Corduroy To Enjoy

Mud makes many a Princeton trail problematic in the spring. Fortunately, the Friends of Princeton Open Space has a spirited volunteer trail committee that has been making great strides for hikers in recent years, building boardwalks over muddy stretches.

Their most recent project was to roll out the "wood carpet" on a trail heading to Witherspoon Woods from the Mountain Lakes driveway. Called "corduroy", the process involves fitting short sections of log crosswise along the trail.

On the job this particular day are FOPOS board members Ted Thomas, Van Williams, Nick Wilson, Clark Lennon and Eric Tazelaar (behind the camera).

If you want to experience the committee's good works for yourself, walk up the Mountain Lakes driveway to the kiosk, turn right down the trail, then head north towards Witherspoon Woods, keeping the meadows of Tusculum to your right.

A Walk At Mountain Lakes

Recent walks through Mountain Lakes led us down paths paved with path rush, a short, dark-green grass-like plant that survives foot traffic better than other plants.

Close up, it has this squashed, angular look.

Usually, stopping to smell the roses proves to be a forgettable experience, given that fragrance has been bred out of most roses. But the swamp rose has escaped the breeders and rewards anyone who wanders into the low, wet, sunny places where it grows.

Common milkweed is another wildflower that survives where trees have not claimed all the sunlight.

We also found a fox grape (Vitis labrusca), that had some very promising-looking berries developing. For identification, it helps to look at the underside of the leaf, which is white/tan instead of green. Concord grapes are bred from fox grape.

We also saw a hazelnut shrub that is kindly donating a portion of its leaves to the food chain.

Part of gaining some woods savvy is learning to recognize poison ivy in all its forms. Here, it has grown up the side of a pear tree next to the creek. The poison ivy "trunk" is hairy, which rhymes with scary, while the horizontal rows of holes on the trunk of the pear tree speak to past visits by sapsuckers. I'm not actually touching the poison ivy, but if I did I'd rinse my hand off in the creek within twenty minutes or so, to avoid getting a rash.

Head downstream from Mountain Lakes and you eventually reach the long boardwalk to the Great Road, where a smaller kind of grape framed a view of Coventry Farm.

Where the lower dam is being rebuilt, we were hoping to see the old ramp, recently discovered, upon which the big blocks of ice were hauled up into the barns in the early 1900s (see earlier post), but the artifact has been covered with a tarp, in preparation for reburial. The best way to preserve it, reportedly, is to cover it up again with muck and lake water.