All that jazz a welcoming sound

When my husband and I were in the process of buying an old red house near Inman Square this spring, we would stalk it each night, passing by just to make sure it was still standing and that, for all the money we would be paying, we were sure we liked it.

On those cool evening walks before summer arrived, the sweetest jazz flowed from a home across the street. We thought, how wonderful! One of our new neighbors has really great taste in music. We were pleasantly surprised to hear it playing each time we walked down the narrow, tree-lined Somerville street.

It wasn't until after we signed a gigantic stack of loan documents and were handed a set of keys that we discovered the truth about the music.

One afternoon, when Jason was repairing holes in the walls of our second-floor bedroom while listening to WBUR, he noted that the producers had made an especially nice segue from news to jazz. Suddenly, it dawned on us that it wasn't the NPR station, but one of our neighbors playing a saxophone.

We were thrilled about our discovery. This was no CD on repeat.

A few days later, when we parked our moving truck on the street, the saxophonist was, to our delight, practicing again. As we unloaded boxes of books, crates of white porcelain plates, and dining room chairs wrapped in blankets from the enormous truck, soothing jazz melted over us, dulling the pain of yet another move. It was our own mellow moving mix.

A few hours later, Kyle, the saxophonist, emerged from the house and introduced himself.

He and three friends live in a two-story apartment in a home kitty-corner to ours. He said his roommates include a bassist working on a PhD in chemistry, a trumpeter, and a writer, who, he noted, ``doesn't make any noise." In the fall, he and the trumpeter would begin studying at Berklee College of Music on full scholarships, he told us. He hoped their music wouldn't bother us, he added.

We could hardly hide our elation as we gushed about how much we enjoyed his music. We had a jazz band on our street! What could be cooler?

This was undeniably more exciting than the cute attic rooms of the new house or its generous backyard or even our location a stone's throw from three coffee shops and our favorite Indian restaurant. We are the only people we know with a jazz band on our street!

In the six weeks since we've moved in, we've appreciated the unpredictability of Kyle's practice schedule.

He plays during daytime thunderstorms and at night while we peel dingy wallpaper from the cracking living room walls.

If we're lucky, he or one of his roommates practices while we're relaxing on our front stoop, eating a burrito from Taqueria La Mexicana in Union Square or enjoying a Harpoon UFO Hefeweizen with a lemon.

When we describe the 106-year-old house to friends and relatives, we sometimes gloss over details like the gleaming hardwood floors, the claw-foot tub, and the pristine woodwork to brag about Kyle and his friends. `` Have we told you about our jazz band? " we ask.

We love the sound of the jazz wafting through our new home, and switch off the TV or iPod as soon as they start practicing.

If it's been a couple days since I've heard them play, I wonder what Kyle and his friends are up to and if, perhaps, they are out of town.

Hearing their music always lifts my mood, no matter what project I'm in the middle of, and it reminds me why I live in the city.

We are here not for the restaurants and bars, not for the proximity to the T, but for the feeling of being very much alive.

Kristen Green recently moved to Somerville, where she is a reporter and, most recently, owner of a Victorian that she and her husband are renovating -- very, very slowly. You can e-mail her at kristen.green@comcast.net.