Appreciating Mary Halvorson

The Smithsonian is proclaiming April as Jazz Appreciation Month.



I will participate by sharing the various ways that I appreciate jazz.

In the entire scope of music, jazz represents a tiny niche. Last I noticed, jazz accounted for 3 percent of music sales. Among those 3 percentage points, Kenny G probably represents 1, the Marsalis family another 1, leaving the last 1 for everyone else.

I like the idea of tiny-ness when it comes to jazz—because it is not tiny. Within that 1 percentage point is another world of creativity too massive to hear in just one month of formal observance. The music is filled with people who occupy a niche of this tiny niche yet cultivate a meaningful following.

Today, I recognize guitarist Mary Halvorson for occupying her niche of the niche in a most distinctive way. Her fearless style of slashes, spikes, and squalls is not a new approach—Jimi Hendrix and James Ulmer were doing similar things three and four decades ago—but I have never heard this vocabulary assembled for exactly this dynamic effect. I would describe the dynamic range as discreet to thoroughly impolite, but often with no gradations in between.

The video I have embedded does not show her at her most jarring. If you have a better suggestion for a video to embed, please let me know.

For more gloriously jarring Mary Halvorson, try her recent CD, "Saturn Sings." http://www.cduniverse.com/productinfo.asp?pid=8310187

Vineyard update: Harvest final

Yield skyrockets; learning curve remains gradual

The technique I used to preserve grapes through the summer worked too well. In the end, the grapes turned overripe and began to fall off the vine. This outcome is not entirely bad, though.

I managed to extend the season for my young St. Vincent grapevines by shielding them from pests with a gauzy fabric —

The famous Shroud of St. Vincent

We had no losses whatsoever from Japanese beetles, and I did not have to harvest early to preserve the yield from grape-munching birds.

In the deluges of the first half of September, at least 10 inches of rainfall soaked the vineyard, keeping sugar levels low. Throughout late September, Brix levels remained at 15-17. I held out, hoping for 22-23, corresponding to the typical wine alcohol content of roughly 12 percent. Assuming I could stand pat until I ran up against the danger of frost, I allowed plump, heavy clusters grapes to remain on the vines into October.

However, on Sunday, Oct. 3, I encountered an unexpected loss: a few clusters had fallen off the vines and gone splat on the earth below. I learned from my viticulture mentors that this behavior is typical of St. Vincent grapes, which do not necessarily reach optimum sugar levels before they become overripe.

Destemmed in minutes.

Pressing with hands and fists provides a pleasant tactile experience.

I harvested and processed the grapes immediately.
Grapes: 14 pounds
Brix: 17
Sugar added: about 2 cups
Corrected Brix: 24
Wine: 4 liters (including probably 1 liter of yeasty sludge)

These results, while puny, represent an exponential spike from last year's yield of a total of 74 grapes. Yes, we counted them (It was easy).

Next year, I will set more modest expectations for sugar values and be ready to harvest before fall-off-the-vine syndrome kicks in.

3L wine + 1L sludge.

This year, three of our plants produced grapes. Next year, three more will begin producing. Another two plants are in their first year. So, we're still at least two years away from a potential yield that will allow us to make a 19-liter-carboy batch of wine. The quest continues.

Prairie State Park

Late-summer prairie flecked with color

Not far from the rugged hills and valleys of the Ozark Mountain region, the state maintains a stretch of prairie. In late August, we visited Prairie State Park in western Missouri, about 30 miles north of Joplin (Google map).

One of the staff members at the park warned us that we were in an in-between time for flowering plants. The late-summer bloomers were burning out in the heat, and the plants that were waiting for cooler weather were still waiting.

An impatient observer might sink into boredom at the prospect of the prairie's freeform flatland expanse. Just a field of weeds, right?

Well, no. The closer we looked, the more we saw.

Flecks of color made their appearances as we approached ...

... along with exciting geometric patterns!

Even things that were rotting created interesting shapes and muted colors.

We saw this smear of white from far away. Close up, it revealed its bushy texture.

Small herds of elk and bison roam in sections of Prairie State Park. We saw a lone bison grazing in the distance (brown dot, left of center).

I remember reading Annie Dillard’s advice for nature lovers in Teaching a Stone to Talk or Pilgrim at Tinker Creek: Find a good spot, sit still, and wait for nature to come to you. As I recall, she was writing about critters. However, to discover the details of the prairie, you can’t wait for it to come to you; you have to go to it. Could this dynamic have been a factor in charging the current of the American westward movement? Just a thought ...

Considering that this is what we found during an in-between time, what could we possibly expect during peak times?

Blue is one color to expect in the fall, an expert in plants and animals at the park said. Blue asters will bloom in plain sight, and, tucked down in the grasses, blue bottle gentians will flourish. Feathery plumes of Indian grass will shoot up in autumn as the tallgrass prairie reaches its peak.

Into winter, wildlife, including deer, bison and short-eared owls, is more visible with less cover, the expert said.

After your visit, eat at the Bulldog Cafe in Liberal, about 5 miles to the northeast.

Neighborhood fireworks

The neighborhood fireworks display projects American values much more forcefully than any extravaganza orchestrated by a large organization.

The neighborhood shoot-up is spontaneous, unpredictable and self-directed. If you want to light a few firecrackers and bottle rockets and call it a night before last light, fine. If you want to spend a week’s pay recreating what Francis Scott Key saw, have at it. If you hate fireworks, close your doors and plug your ears for three hours.

Viewing the blasts from your front yard is a 360-degree around, 180-degree aloft, head-spinning experience. If you look in one direction, you will probably miss something behind you. If you look high at the colorful firebursts, you will miss the grounded sparklers. After a while, you realize it doesn’t matter where you look; something is sure to pop up.

In any case, many individuals are contributing all at once, delivering an overall effect that is more stunning than an orchestrated demonstration that forces you to look at one thing at a time. It’s the exciting one-and-many experience of American culture.

This video sort of tells a story and strives to render the spectacle. But fireworks never come off well when mediated, whether by photography or video, wobbly or still. Next year, find a neighborhood where fireworks are legal and prevalent, and see for yourself.

Urban vineyard update; The Shroud of St. Vincent

Last year was the first time the vines produced grapes. The yield was negligible, about 100 grapes all told, but, with so little to lose, the season provided a valuable education in the war against pests. Last year’s campaign went badly, as Japanese beetles devoured the leaves in June and, in August, birds scarfed at least 50 of the 100 grapes. However, toward the end of that campaign, I had learned how to fight. This year, I believe I have the knowledge and the means to win.

First, here are two lists of things that don’t work:

To fight beetles, I sprayed the vines with carbaryl. That poison killed bugs on contact, but new arrivals didn’t seem to be affected. I also tried those “traps” that lure the bugs with sickly sweet bait. They are worse than useless; they actually attract the bugs to the foliage. Even though I followed directions and placed the traps at a distance from the vines, I still attracted thousands of Japanese beetles from other neighborhoods. Some ate themselves to death in the traps. Others explored the area, found the vines and shredded them.

Against birds: I tried fishing line, mylar streamers, shiny clattering objects, and a fake owl. Birds ignored them all. I encased grape clusters in garden netting of thin, black, half-inch mesh. Fluttering birds inserted their beaks into the gaps and plucked one grape at a time.

Then, late in the battle against the birds, I tried something called seed guard, a white, lightweight, see-through garden netting from Dewitt Co. in Sikeston, Mo. I wrapped the areas of the vines where grapes still grew. Birds could not reach them. This gauzy fabric proved to be effective against pests but also allowed plenty of ventilation for the vines. I watched for a possible greenhouse effect, but the wrapped areas remained vital.

This year, I am using the Dewitt seed guard on a large scale. I’ve wrapped the vines as if they were the object of a Christo project. The netting undulates in a breeze, creating a ghostly presence, especially in the evening. For this reason, I have chosen to call my installation The Shroud of St. Vincent, after the variety of grape I am growing.

The shroud is a labor-intensive project, though. For one thing, it’s fragile, held in place by garden staples and clothespins. Earlier this month, two storms blew it down. It takes about an hour to reconstruct. Whenever I need to apply fungicide, I have to unwrap the vines and rewrap. That's a small price to pay — I'm winning the war.

The Japanese beetles are here, but they can’t penetrate the shroud. Hah!

Odds are, you’ll find a winner at 7C’s

Owner Dwight Crevelt behind the tasting bar at 7C’s.

The winery is about 20 miles north of Springfield.
Take Missouri 123 just beyond Walnut Grove
and turn east on 560th.

Among several discoveries at 7C’s Winery, I had one big surprise: I tasted a mead that I actually liked.

Until last Sunday, I have known the honey-based wine, which was popular in Europe from the Roman Empire through Medieval times, as a drink with an bitter kick at the end. But I’ll try anything more than once.

When I sipped Dwight Crevelt’s mead, I enjoyed the floral nose (he didn’t name it Wild Flower Mead for nothing), the light, soft nutty notes on the tongue, and a finish that you might call bashful. I kept waiting for the dreaded aftershock, but it did not arrive. I’d never tasted a mead this smooth, I told Crevelt.

"Oh, you were expecting that punch right at the end — Yeah!" he shouted, pumping his fist. Then, in a matter-of-fact tone, he gave me the reason for my unexpected pleasure: "Mead has to age."

I was surprised to learn, though, that by aging, he meant as little as 5-6 months. Apparently I’d been tasting one bad mead after another by a crowd of woefully impatient mead makers.

The name of the winery, by the way, refers to the initial of the first names of the extended Crevelt family.

Noteworthy 7C’s wines include: an earthy, spicy and fruity Norton; Branding Iron Red, a dry blend of St. Vincent and Chambourcin; and Cattle Drive White, a semisweet Vidal. All of these choices will meet expectations for state-of-the-art Missouri winemaking for these grapes.

The wine titles and labels have a cowboy theme, which threw me a bit in light of the winery’s location in the hilly Ozarks. Maybe the theme derives from the Crevelts’ years out West, though Las Vegas is not exactly a cow town.

In Las Vegas, Crevelt worked the gaming industry — hardware and electronics. Among his achievements, Crevelt developed and updated card-reader electronics for electronic gaming machines while working for a Las Vegas maker of slot and video gaming devices.

For a sampling of his work, see this search result from IPEXL, an intellectual property exchange directory. He also has his own gaming consulting firm that explores vast areas of automated gaming.

The 7C's building stands on high ground.
Click on the photo to enlarge.

The winery holds regular Sunday afternoon
musical get-togethers on the grounds.

Wine trail leads to Le Cave Vineyards

Le Cave owner Beth White among her vines.
The winery is south of Billings on 413.
Turn east on Jasmine Road (watch
carefully for the modest winery sign).

During a visit on Sunday, June 6, to Le Cave Vineyards south of Billings, I learned about the efforts of the wineries of the Ozark Mountain Wine Trail to promote their wines across the lengthy range of the trail, from Seymour in Webster County to Oronogo in the Joplin area.

The seven wineries have joined forces to host occasional get-togethers at their various locations. Sunday was Le Cave’s turn.

"Instead of waiting for the people take the wine trail, we’re bringing the wine trail to the people," owner Beth White said. "We all take our wine, and we all pour."

Le Cave’s Spring Fling event unfolded in the shade of walnut trees near a stand of vines. Wineries represented were Keltoi, 7Cs, Oovvda, and Whispering Oaks. Visitors settled in with picnics, bought wine and listened to a live band.

Discussion of Le Cave’s wine included conjecture about the influence of the walnut trees on the wine flavor. At the tasting bar, one of our hosts suggested the Norton had a hint of walnut. Maybe so.

I loved the Frontenac, a cold-climate grape. The luscious dry red had depth but somehow remained restrained and gentle — soft fruit, soft oak, rich finish.

I liked the 2008 Chambourcin: deeply rich red color, touch of spice. The 2007 Chambourcin does not measure up to the 2008.

Coming Saturday, June 12: Pierce City Arts Festival

Festival planners invited the Ozark Mountain Wine Trail to provide tasting for the event, said Larry Green of Whispering Oaks Winery. The festival website says tasting will occur at Bookmarks, LLC (corner of Walnut and Commercial) from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m.

The old barn at Le Cave has a fascinating ceiling

that made me think, for a moment, that I was
inside a wine barrel. Click on the photo to enlarge.