Squirrel Artist Branching Out

After several years of sculpting primarily pumpkins, the Master of Gnaw appears to be experimenting with new materials. Past work below, and further riffing on this new development at the PrincetonPrimer blog.

Future Shade

Nothing symbolizes so well the quandary of the future as the question of how to shade play equipment in a park. Back when I was frequenting playgrounds with my kids, in various parts of the country, we'd typically find the play equipment lacked shade and would get searing hot in summer sun. The equipment would be rendered useless for hours, because no one had thought to plant a tree in the right place years before. Oftentimes, trees had been planted elsewhere in a park, but not in strategic locations where their shade would do the most good.

So when a couple wanted to plant a tree in the park behind my house to celebrate the birth of their son a few years ago, I suggested we plant it southwest of the new play structure, so that its limbs would eventually provide shade during the hottest hours of the day. I showed the tree to a town arborist the other day, and he joked that he will have long since retired to Florida by the time the tree is shading the play structure. I offered that he might be saved a trip, given how quickly Florida's weather is migrating northward.

It's not surprising that staff would be less than passionate about a well-shaded future, given a necessary preoccupation with keeping a storm-ravaged town functioning in the present. And when I look at the tree and see how far it has to go, it does seem a leap of faith. How else, though, does one make cool, delicious shade happen other than to make that leap? The future will come sooner than we think. Trees grow--the evidence is all around--and yet playgrounds across the land roast for lack of shade.

There's another kind of play and exercise that parks need to foster--the play of the imagination, leaps of faith--so that we might better see, and shade, the future.

Flower Gets Frosty Reception

Yesterday, while looking out across the bleak backyard landscape, one small point of bright yellow caught my eye. A dandelion, audacious or rightfully confused by all the weather's mixed signals.

My Photo Selected for Traveling Exhibit

I was very honored recently to hear that the eminent photographer Emmet Gowin chose to include my photograph of Carnegie Lake ice in a traveling exhibit of photographs, selected from the Princeton University's Art of Science collection. Assisting in selection was Joel Smith, former Curator of Photography at the Princeton Art Museum.

Here's the descriptive text from 2010:

When Carnegie Lake Became a Stained Glass Window

Stephen Hiltner

Friends of Princeton Open Space

"Energy drives water's greatness. No molecule responds more brilliantly than water to the energy regime negotiated by the planet's atmosphere. If there were a physical template that drove the evolution of our imaginations, it would be water. Water is the ultimate artist, a renaissance molecule, exploring endless patterns and textures and playing with light as it shifts nimbly from solid to liquid to gas. Glaciers and rivers are channeled energy, but in a lake, water is trapped, and must do its work within the frame of a shoreline. A steady exodus of energy yields congealed, dark ice. But more often, the process is complex — a series of freezes and thaws, compressions and expansions. One day this past January, crossing the Harrison Street bridge, I happened to look over and noticed that all of Carnegie Lake had taken on the rich patterns of a giant, horizontal stained glass window. This close-up is part of a comparative exploration of the forces driving creativity in people and in nature."

Other photos from that very unusual "frozen moment" in the lake's history are documented in a March 4, 2010 post on this blog. I also had a photo in the 2009 Art of Science exhibit, taken a previous time when Carnegie Lake froze thick enough to skate on.

The university's "best of" traveling show (facebook version here) of 45 images, selected from more than 250 images in past Princeton Art of Science exhibits, will continue through March 17, 2013 at the Liberty Science Center (LSC.org), located in Liberty State Park, not far from the Statue of Liberty.

You can see the current Art of Science exhibit on display in the main walkway at the university's Friends Center, or go to princeton.edu/artofscience.

To Clear a Trail

There's a trail in here somewhere. These photos, taken by Eric Tazelaar, document a weekend of volunteer work to open up trails through whatever Hurricane Sandy left of the pine woods at Community Park North.

Clark Lennon, one of the lead members of the FOPOS (Friends of Princeton Open Space) trails committee, did a lot of the chainsaw work.

Here's a good action shot.

 In this sequence, a multi-stemmed tree

 sprang

back

 up into its original position.

Second and third from the left, and second from the right, are Ted Thomas, Clark Lennon and Andrew Thornton--longtime members of the trails committee. I unfortunately don't recognize the others, but heard that some other local groups sent volunteers, including Blue Mountain Sports.

This shot includes Wendy Mager, president of FOPOS, who has led so many successful efforts to preserve open space in Princeton.

Some 40 trees were cleared from trails on that Saturday (Nov. 10) and "many more than that" on Sunday.

With all the windstorms and nor'easters that have come through Princeton in recent years, there simply would be no trails to walk on without these efforts.

Cross-town Dogwood Migration

When Tim Patrick-Miller, a longtime Friends of Princeton Open Space board member, sought volunteers to move 9 flowering dogwoods to Mountain Lakes, we answered the call. The township grew the trees at its Smoyer Park nursery, but as trees in a nursery gain inertia with each growing season, it sometimes takes someone with exceptional determination to actually dig them up and give them a home out in the real world.

The real world, of course, has become a lot less shady since Hurricane Sandy, and these trees were headed to spots near Mountain Lakes House where the canopy has opened up. In this photo, trail committee member Clark Lennon waved encouragement while Andrew Thornton and Tim heaved and hoed.

I contributed the truck for delivery to Mountain Lakes, and the camera,

in lieu of heavy lifting.

So in this fine photo with fellow habitat restorationists, AeLin Compton and Andrew, my shovel is looking pretty ornamental.

Leaf Interest in Late Fall

Early December is not considered a time of dynamic leaf change, but the evergreen Japanese azaleas are starting to drop their "spring leaves"--the larger leaves that grow in the spring along the stem. "Summer leaves" closer to the tips stay on. More info at this link.

The recent coolish spell offered a chance to photograph leaves just below the thin ice at Mountain Lakes Preserve.

The combination of partial decomposition

and the translucent properties of the ice made this leaf look as if it were from an oil painting.

Post-Hurricane Mountain Lakes

Did some scouting yesterday for today's nature walk at Community Park North and Mountain Lakes, beginning at Pettoranello Gardens.

A closer look at the photo shows a great blue heron. We saw two, or four if you count their reflections.

The pine woods up the hill from Pettoranello Gardens looks like a logging scene. Hurricane Sandy was only one of several storms that have been knocking the trees over. They were planted in the 1960s in what had been a farm field. I can't say I've ever seen white pines or Norway spruce growing naturally in this area, where deciduous woods are the norm.

Ash trees (note opposite branching saplings in the foreground) have been massing at the base of the pine trees for years, ready to  take full advantage of the sky that has opened up above them.

The Friends of Princeton Open Space trails committee has led efforts to reopen trails--an incredible job.

A closer look suggests two small yellow creatures running behind my daughter. Hard to tell, though, given the focus.

On the far side of the Tusculum fields, the hurricane pretty much polished off what was left of the woods between Mountain Lakes House and Tusculum. This was mostly a mix of white pines and black locust--again, not tree species that existed here historically. Fortunately, a couple native chestnuts planted here to take advantage of sunny openings have survived and should make the most of the additional sunlight.

Upstream of Mountain Lakes, This Old Bridge took another hit, this time from nearby maple tree. Some years back, the bridge was transported 100 feet downstream by a massive flood, then dragged back into position by the township. State regs would probably make replacing the bridge prohibitively expensive.

At Mountain Lakes itself, things were much more peaceful. A couple young fishermen weren't having any luck, but they didn't seem to mind too much.

The raingarden next to Mountain Lakes House has gone into attractive hibernation.

Every time I look at how evenly the water slips over the upper dam, I think of Clifford Zink, the consulting architectural historian who encouraged the dam restorationists to make the spillway perfectly flat.

Starving Artist Consumes Own Art To Survive

In a previous post, I decried what appeared to be a lack of serious effort exhibited by squirrels this fall in carving our front door pumpkin.

Apparently, the local squirrels read this blog, because soon thereafter the squirrel community sent one of its masters of gnaw to create a more elaborate carving. Rodentopologists who have researched squirrel legends tell me this one-eyed monkey face has deep meanings extending back to when great squirrel nations vied for dominance in what proved a losing battle with primates. Current squirrel populations represent a diaspora from that time.

The next day, however, I grew concerned that something other than aesthetics and traditional expression was motivating the carver. The symbol of the "exploding pumpkin" appears nowhere in squirrel mythology.

It became increasingly clear that a starving artist was at work.

One of the take-home lessens here is that an all-consuming passion is not enough to create enduring art.

Deceptive Age of a Tree

The stumps from a couple oak trees pushed over by Hurricane Fran have remained to ornament Nassau Street, like mortars from the Civil War.

Counting the rings of one, I was surprised to find that, though 3 feet wide at the base, it was only 40 years old.

Translated to the trees we encounter in Princeton's open space, it goes to show how young a mature-looking forest may be, and how some of the woods that feel like they've always been there may in fact have been pastures or farm fields not too many decades back.

In contrast, other woods in Princeton may harbor trees 180 years old, like this slice of an ash on exhibit at the Frist Center on the Princeton University campus. It was sacrificed as part of the stream restoration next to Washington Rd at the university.

Nature Walk This Sunday at Mountain Lakes

All are welcome to join a post-Sandy "Turkey Trek" I'll be leading this Sunday at 1:30pm, along trails cleared by FOPOS trail committee volunteers. We'll survey the changes in the woods brought about by the storm, and also visit the dams in all their restored glory. The walk will be accompanied by a TV30 film crew who are putting together a feature on Mountain Lakes. No need to arrive in finest feather. Just look natural.

Meet at Community Park North parking lot, on Mountain Ave. just off 206. Entry to the parking lot is right next to the 57 Mountain Ave driveway that leads up to the Mountain Lakes House. Wear some good walking shoes, and in the meantime, happy thanksgiving to all.

Princeton's Mountain Lakes Dam Restoration Story

(Also posted at PrincetonPrimer.org)Quite a story will be told this Thursday, Nov. 15, 7pm, at the Princeton Library community room, about the reservoirs that once provided Princeton with ice in pre-refrigeration days. Engineers identified the need for restoration of the dams as far back as the 1970s, but only when an anonymous donor came forward with several million dollars (eventually totaling 3.5) was the project able to move forward, in 2010. (The donor had also helped to purchase Mountain Lakes back in the 1980s.)

Here's a description of Thursday's event:

"Created as an ice pond in 1884, Mountain Lake gradually filled in with sediment and the severe deterioration of its dams threatened to drain it altogether. Princeton Township engineering staff and consultants review Mountain Lake's ice harvesting history, archaeological discoveries, and the careful rehabilitation over the last two years that has restored the beauty of this National Register site and has preserved it for future generations."

The Mountain Lakes Preserve is one of Princeton's best-kept open secrets. Despite being in the middle of Princeton geographically, Mountain Lakes feels tucked away, accessed down a long driveway at 57 Mountain Ave, not far from town hall, across 206 from the Community Park fields.

You can access a pictorial and descriptive history of the restoration project at this link (scroll to the bottom and work your way up chronologically), but I'll show a few photos here.

The small wooden posts in the foreground of the above photo show where a ramp once conveyed big blocks of ice out of the lake and up into barns that once stood three stories high just below the dam. The barns, insulated with straw, could store ice for up to two years. The ice, of course, was delivered to people's homes to cool their ice boxes, in those more sustainable days before refrigeration became widespread in the 1930s or so.

Mountain Lakes House, built around 1950 and now used for weddings and other events, has a beautiful view of the upper lake and dam.

Dredging of the thick sediment (The 1600 truck loads were taken to a sod farm) during restoration apparently uncovered a rich seedbank of native wetland rushes, sedges and wildflowers that carpeted the lakebeds while the lakes remained drained. Friends of Princeton Open Space board member Tim Patrick-Miller led efforts to rescue some of these plants prior to refilling the lakes. They now make a fine native border along the upper lake.

Native woodland asters flourish along a lakeside trail in an area we cleared of invasive shrubs. All trails are open to the public.

This area too, just below the upper dam, is being managed for native species.

Though the restoration was primarily the work of Princeton township engineers, consultants and the very capable contractor who did the elaborate stonework (done primarily by a man named Wolfgang) and concrete reinforcement needed to restore the original beauty while bringing the dams up to current standards, I was able to contribute to the project in various ways.

As resource manager for Friends of Princeton Open Space, I helped correct some misperceptions about the lakes' original depth, made sure that areas near the dams with rare native plants remained undisturbed, and also pointed out the importance of restoring not only the two main dams, but also the smaller dams just upstream that had served to capture stream sediment before it could reach the two lakes.

Restoration of one of these upstream dams, built in 1950, was made possible by additional funds from the anonymous donor. Now cleaned of seven feet of sediment accumulated in its first 60 years, it should substantially increase the life of the two main lakes.

I also encouraged the township to dig several vernal pools nearby to serve the local frog population. State regulations may have bogged down those plans.

If you haven't been to Mountain Lakes, take a walk out there some day to see the award-winning dam restorations, an occasional great blue heron, "Devil's Cave" at the top of the boulder-strewn slopes of Witherspoon Woods, and maybe even hear the call of a pileated woodpecker. It's one of the finer meetings of nature and culture, wild and tamed, natural and man-made beauty.