tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-199444742009-07-14T14:19:16.584-07:00The Trowbridge ChroniclesThe text and paintings on The Trowbridge Chronicles are taken from the illustrated journal of Violet Trowbridge, a shrew that once lived in a village deep in the Olympic Rain Forest. Each new post will represent a portion of Mrs. Trowbridge’s journal.Bron Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07371697593470177928noreply@blogger.comBlogger99125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19944474.post-70799523064689518122009-07-10T10:08:00.000-07:002009-07-10T22:51:36.532-07:00EGG ROLL<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/Sld1qrCzhGI/AAAAAAAAAdE/dqJEn6PhBmo/s1600-h/tb94.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 394px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/Sld1qrCzhGI/AAAAAAAAAdE/dqJEn6PhBmo/s400/tb94.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356879657749939298" border="0" /></a>This week Mrs. Trowbridge's little shrew character finds himself in the subalpine meadows above Huckleberry Hollow in pursuit of the elusive rolling egg. The first two pages of the story can be found in the archive to your left.<br /><br />Next week our son, Brad, and I will be returning to Mrs. Trowbridge's rain forest. This year we may explore the Skokomish River, hiking as far up the river as time will allow. When we return I'll report the results of our explorations on Twitter: <a href="http://www.twitter.com/Bron_Smith">www.twitter.com/Bron_Smith</a><br /><br />The rhododendrons in the background of my Twitter page are a close up detail from my latest watercolor. It took 94 hours over the span of a year to complete the painting on a full sheet of watercolor paper. If you would like information on my next Painting in Paradise watercolor workshop, check out my Painting in Paradise site: http://<a href="http://bronsmith.googlepages.com/">bronsmith.googlepages.com</a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19944474-7079952306468951812?l=trowbridgechronicles.blogspot.com'/></div>Bron Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07371697593470177928noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19944474.post-69995020309563374152009-06-12T07:59:00.000-07:002009-06-12T08:28:32.693-07:00ROLLIN' ALONG<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SjJuuOQ2bXI/AAAAAAAAAc8/QsaIFCZ-DWY/s1600-h/tb92.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 399px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SjJuuOQ2bXI/AAAAAAAAAc8/QsaIFCZ-DWY/s400/tb92.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346457448024010098" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SjJumu2XoiI/AAAAAAAAAc0/yfTRpROYeN0/s1600-h/tb93unfold.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SjJumu2XoiI/AAAAAAAAAc0/yfTRpROYeN0/s400/tb93unfold.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346457319332356642" border="0" /></a>Here's page two from Mrs. Trowbridge's story about a little shrew who found an egg beside the trail. The story will unfold in the coming weeks. Then, who knows, I might offer it as a book.<br /><br />Click <a href="http://bronsmith.googlepages.com">here</a> for information on our upcoming Painting in Paradise workshop. We leave for Rarotonga on January 10, 2009.<br /><br />Follow me on Twitter: <a href="http://www.twitter.com/Bron_Smith">www.twitter.com/Bron_Smith</a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19944474-6999502030956337415?l=trowbridgechronicles.blogspot.com'/></div>Bron Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07371697593470177928noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19944474.post-56120555204049485332009-06-01T08:12:00.000-07:002009-06-01T09:04:05.828-07:00WHAT'S INSIDE?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SiPwCmEhjTI/AAAAAAAAAcs/znqrmp1-KqY/s1600-h/tb92.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 399px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SiPwCmEhjTI/AAAAAAAAAcs/znqrmp1-KqY/s400/tb92.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342377510361468210" border="0" /></a>Here's more from the poetry pages of Mrs. Trowbridge's journal. She would adapt to the needs of her readers, and it seems that she often used her clever limericks to entertain her children and grand children. This poem will continue for the next few episodes.<br /><br />Join me for our next Painting in Paradise trip in July. We're making plans now for a Painting in Paradise watercolor workshop on the exotic Caribbean island of St. Thomas, in the U.S. Virgin Islands. Contact me at bronsmith@gmail.com if you'd like to join us. Also, the <span style="font-weight: bold;">big</span> trip will be here before we know it, the Painting in Paradise Rarotonga workshop in the South Pacific. We leave on January 10, 2020. For details: http://<a href="http://bronsmith.googlepages.com/">bronsmith.googlepages.com</a><br /><br />What am I working on today? Follow me on Twitter: <a href="http://twitter.com/Bron_Smith">http://twitter.com/Bron_Smith</a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19944474-5612055520404948533?l=trowbridgechronicles.blogspot.com'/></div>Bron Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07371697593470177928noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19944474.post-29788024178745408652009-05-09T11:01:00.000-07:002009-05-09T11:21:22.385-07:00SUMMER FUN<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SgXFMtLTivI/AAAAAAAAAck/4b3az4u3UyQ/s1600-h/tb91parade.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 398px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SgXFMtLTivI/AAAAAAAAAck/4b3az4u3UyQ/s400/tb91parade.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333886155766336242" border="0" /></a>It's such a beautiful blue-sky day here in the Pacific Northwest (USA) today. My thoughts are already turning to the summer season and all the wonderful things that come along with summer. So I chose a summer page from Mrs. Trowbridge's journal, one of the poetry pages that she created for her children and grandchildren.<br /><br />Summer was a grand time in Huckleberry Hollow. The grandest event was the midsummer Forest Festival, with a parade and lots of family events. But the young forest creatures were never without something to do. Every summer day was filled with fun and games, as seen above.<br /><br />It's still months away, January 10, 2010 to be exact, but I'm already counting the days till our Painting in Paradise Workshop in Rarotonga. Some have already signed up, but there's still room for more. If you would like to learn how to paint exotic tropical flowers and landscapes in a South Sea paradise, you'll find all the info at the Painting in Paradise web site: <a href="http://bronsmith.googlepages.com">http://bronsmith.googlepages.com</a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19944474-2978802417874540865?l=trowbridgechronicles.blogspot.com'/></div>Bron Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07371697593470177928noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19944474.post-26896377531840700862009-04-25T19:54:00.000-07:002009-04-26T18:26:43.803-07:00DINNER IS SERVED!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SfPNf85BZhI/AAAAAAAAAcc/E8XVgvtpO2c/s1600-h/tb89.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 399px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SfPNf85BZhI/AAAAAAAAAcc/E8XVgvtpO2c/s400/tb89.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328828732914361874" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SfPNYymFinI/AAAAAAAAAcU/QnveJqlWzdo/s1600-h/tb90.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 394px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SfPNYymFinI/AAAAAAAAAcU/QnveJqlWzdo/s400/tb90.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328828609891502706" border="0" /></a>Mrs. Trowbridge spent considerable time writing witty verses for her children and, later, her grandchildren. You'll note she abandoned her painterly style and used a simpler line and wash method for illustrating her verses.<br /><br />She wrote in her journal that verses would descend upon her at the most unusual times; in the theater, while having tea with friends, or while preparing dinner. She would even be awakened in the middle of the night with a verse that would come to her in a dream.<br /><br />Would you like to join me on the painting safari of a lifetime, to one of earth's most beautiful places? We leave on January 10, 2010...<a href="http://bronsmith.googlepages.com">Click here</a> for info.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19944474-2689637753184070086?l=trowbridgechronicles.blogspot.com'/></div>Bron Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07371697593470177928noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19944474.post-33193581546681303882009-03-03T16:51:00.000-08:002009-03-03T16:59:14.669-08:00RAINBOW QUILT<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/Sa3QtDOetYI/AAAAAAAAAcM/r52M8SSQXDc/s1600-h/tb87breezy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 395px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/Sa3QtDOetYI/AAAAAAAAAcM/r52M8SSQXDc/s400/tb87breezy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309129008118412674" border="0" /></a>Mrs. Trowbridge had committed to make a quilt for each of her children. On a cold breezy day in February she finally completed her lengthy task, having finished the beautiful rainbow pattern quilt that you see in her painting for her youngest son, Nils.<br /><br />I have been inspired by Mrs. T's tradition of celebrating family events. I wish that I would have been able to pull away from my work responsibilities more often when our children were young. I hope that you can take time to celebrate occasions with your family.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19944474-3319358154668130388?l=trowbridgechronicles.blogspot.com'/></div>Bron Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07371697593470177928noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19944474.post-52441855596392650672009-02-08T13:41:00.000-08:002009-02-08T13:54:10.637-08:00DINNER TIME!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SY9RtUbdsrI/AAAAAAAAAaw/4DHzL0F4Qaw/s1600-h/tb85time.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 397px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SY9RtUbdsrI/AAAAAAAAAaw/4DHzL0F4Qaw/s400/tb85time.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300545125458227890" border="0" /></a>Mrs. Trowbridge loved all things culinary, especially her winter stews. She had several stew pots, all decorated with her colorful tole designs. I was going to include her recipe for sowbug dandelion stew, but I didn't think that you would be interested.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19944474-5244185559639265067?l=trowbridgechronicles.blogspot.com'/></div>Bron Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07371697593470177928noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19944474.post-58682408341961662892009-01-25T15:40:00.001-08:002009-01-25T16:27:48.757-08:00THE BALDHIP ROSE<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SXz__lObehI/AAAAAAAAAao/bWVwu5hvj00/s1600-h/tb84paletext.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SXz__lObehI/AAAAAAAAAao/bWVwu5hvj00/s400/tb84paletext.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295388729670334994" border="0" /></a>This is a rather rare page from Mrs. Trowbridge's journal. The only miniatures in her journal were painted over the course of a few weeks during one summer. This one was so small, only about 3/16 of an inch high, that I could only make out the image through a magnifying glass. I hope it helps to lift you from the doldrums of winter.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SXz_51ETAhI/AAAAAAAAAag/C0OwkPm_1vU/s1600-h/tb84palephoto.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 260px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SXz_51ETAhI/AAAAAAAAAag/C0OwkPm_1vU/s400/tb84palephoto.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295388630843589138" border="0" /></a>Though lovely in appearance, the Baldhip, or Wild Rose is not as exotic as it may appear in Mrs. T's journal page. I've seen them many times in the Olympic wilderness, but they are also commonly seen along the highways and byways of Western Washington. I shot this one along Highway 101 near Gardner, Washington, in the foothills of the Olympic Mountains.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19944474-5868240834196166289?l=trowbridgechronicles.blogspot.com'/></div>Bron Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07371697593470177928noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19944474.post-82818019765902773142009-01-12T15:27:00.000-08:002009-01-12T16:57:21.759-08:00A COUSIN REUNION<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SWvSEB3tclI/AAAAAAAAAZ8/EfjfOsUGt9E/s1600-h/tb83contained.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 396px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SWvSEB3tclI/AAAAAAAAAZ8/EfjfOsUGt9E/s400/tb83contained.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290553153940189778" border="0" /></a><br />It just occurred to me today that because of the flurry of activity over the holidays, the three-year reunion of The Trowbridge Chronicles passed uneventfully on January 1. It was then, just before midnight in 2006, that I posted the first page from Mrs. Trowbridge's journal. Happy Anniversary, Mrs. T.!<br /><br />A reunion with my cousins over the holidays prompted me to post this page from Mrs. T.'s journal regarding a reunion with <span style="font-weight: bold;">her</span> cousins so long ago. Her reunion took place inside this nurse log that served as a tea shop. Note the tiny Douglas fir (Pseudotsuga pinaceae) seedling growing on the mossy top of the log. The little Banana slug (Ariolamax columbianus) looks on from above.<br /><br />Nurse logs are a vital part of the rain forest ecosystem. As the log decays over time, it provides the vital nutrients necessary to turn a tiny seedling into a rain forest giant. Many other forest flora, like ferns and mushrooms, get their start on a nurse log. Death brings life.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19944474-8281801976590277314?l=trowbridgechronicles.blogspot.com'/></div>Bron Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07371697593470177928noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19944474.post-39247994324085775932008-12-20T19:42:00.000-08:002008-12-20T20:39:00.886-08:00MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SU27RApUMNI/AAAAAAAAAYU/GSHX4e7HYO0/s1600-h/trowbridgechristmaspicture0.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 396px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SU27RApUMNI/AAAAAAAAAYU/GSHX4e7HYO0/s400/trowbridgechristmaspicture0.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282083838880919762" border="0" /></a>The night forest was still and silent, except for a muffled chorus of squeaky voices coming from deep under the first snowfall of the season. It was a gathering of shrews, celebrating their holiday season by making merry and singing holiday anthems.<br /><br />I selected this painting by Mrs. Trowbridge because as I write this we are in the middle of our first big winter storm in the Pacific Northwest region of the United States. The first snow fall of the season has covered our world with a big soft white blanket. As Christmas draws near, we eagerly anticipate our upcoming holiday gatherings. Soon we will be making the trip through the snow to my hometown to celebrate the joy of family and the birth of the Christ Child.<br /><br />May your family gatherings be filled with peace and joy, and your carols echo throughout the forest.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19944474-3924799432408577593?l=trowbridgechronicles.blogspot.com'/></div>Bron Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07371697593470177928noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19944474.post-55239603433001023872008-12-13T11:44:00.000-08:002008-12-13T13:05:47.960-08:00THE MAIDENHAIR FERN REMEDY<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SUQQ_GnAQKI/AAAAAAAAAX0/7Yv9T3y5H6M/s1600-h/tb82similar.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 399px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SUQQ_GnAQKI/AAAAAAAAAX0/7Yv9T3y5H6M/s400/tb82similar.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5279363339477074082" border="0" /></a> Mrs. Trowbridge painted this portion of a large bank of Maidenhair ferns which grew near the Trowbridge family cottage. She did many charcoal and color studies of the rain forest flora. This fern bank was a favorite play area for Mrs. T's children and their friends. They loved to play tag, and hide-and-seek among the fronds, and beneath the oxalis leaves. Sometimes their play would become rambunctious and one young shrew would stub their paw or bump their head on a root. They would then run squeaking and squealing to the Trowbridge family cottage for comfort and first aid. She was always there for the children and their friends.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SUQQ53TDQBI/AAAAAAAAAXs/R3WS-fLua-s/s1600-h/tb82similarphoto1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 395px; height: 277px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SUQQ53TDQBI/AAAAAAAAAXs/R3WS-fLua-s/s400/tb82similarphoto1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5279363249467506706" border="0" /></a>I shot these Maidenhair ferns (Adiatum pedatum) near a boulder overhang in the Dosewallips region of the Olympic Wilderness. Maidenhair ferns are recognized by the fine black stems and fan-shaped leaflets. They are always a delight to see along the trail.<br /><br />Herbalists have used Maidenhair fern syrup just as Mrs. T once did, for chronic pulmonary conditions such as bronchitis, as well as anemia, and persistent skin disorders. If you would like to brew up a batch for yourself, here's Mrs. T's recipe, which I adapted to human measurements.<br /><br />2 cups (40 grams) fresh Maidenhair fern leaves (equal parts, dried and crumbled)<br />4 cups (1 liter) water<br />2 cups (500 ml) unpasteurized honey.<br /><br />Boil plant in water for three minutes, cover and infuse for three hours. Strain the decoction, and then gently melt the honey, without bringing to a boil, for five minutes. Pour the mixture into a glass bottle. Store in the refrigerator and consume within two months at a rate of 1-2 tsp<br />(15-30 ml) diluted in water, three times daily. Let me know if you should decide to try this recipe. I would love to hear of your results.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SUQQ0GJoqdI/AAAAAAAAAXk/AhzRJXO5ec4/s1600-h/tb82similarphoto2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 349px; height: 241px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SUQQ0GJoqdI/AAAAAAAAAXk/AhzRJXO5ec4/s400/tb82similarphoto2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5279363150375332306" border="0" /></a>Oxalis (oxalis oregana), or wood sorrel, is the "clover of the rain forest". The plant bears small white, five-petaled flowers, as seen in Mrs. T's painting. It grows in abundance on the forest floor in the Olympic montane zone. Oxalis is edible...I've eaten it many times...it has a kind of tart lemony taste. The tartness comes from its oxalic acid content.<br /><br />Indians ate the leaves fresh or cooked. They also used the plant juice for digestive problems. Oxalis blooms from April to August.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19944474-5523960343300102387?l=trowbridgechronicles.blogspot.com'/></div>Bron Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07371697593470177928noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19944474.post-58154790452783414482008-11-22T08:43:00.000-08:002008-11-22T09:42:55.258-08:00Quiet Moments by the Stream<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SSg3jj4CadI/AAAAAAAAASU/pPHLByNeFqc/s1600-h/tb81pretend.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 399px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SSg3jj4CadI/AAAAAAAAASU/pPHLByNeFqc/s400/tb81pretend.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271524447902394834" border="0" /></a>After devoting many years to pouring over Mrs. Trowbridge's journal, it is my opinion that Wild Rose Creek was her favorite place to visit in the rain forest. The high meadows where she and her family would spend part of the summer was also one of her favorite spots. Mrs. T spent much of her early morning hours beside the stream, painting and pondering, as evidenced by the text in her journal page above. Her ladybug friend, Lucinda, would often join her.<br /><br />She would sometimes paint herself into her pictures, as in the above painting which depicts her sketching an Indian Pipe by the stream. The sun is just beginning to break through the early morning fog.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SSg3YzOzDfI/AAAAAAAAASM/VRU8p7ewQe0/s1600-h/tb81pretendphoto.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 344px; height: 265px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SSg3YzOzDfI/AAAAAAAAASM/VRU8p7ewQe0/s400/tb81pretendphoto.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271524263045828082" border="0" /></a>I photographed these Indian Pipe (Monotropa uniflora) in the Dosewallips Wilderness several summers ago. A Saprophyte, Indian Pipe derive their nourishment from decomposing matter on the forest floor. Since they have no chlorophyll, they cannot manufacture their own nourishment. Indian Pipe blossoms from June to September.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19944474-5815479045278341448?l=trowbridgechronicles.blogspot.com'/></div>Bron Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07371697593470177928noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19944474.post-77922447767386193792008-11-04T07:30:00.000-08:002008-11-04T09:08:39.153-08:00THE FESTIVAL OF GATHERING<div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SRBs8eyCoJI/AAAAAAAAAR0/nc3FFYmDNH4/s1600-h/tb80vacantphoto.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 272px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SRBs8eyCoJI/AAAAAAAAAR0/nc3FFYmDNH4/s400/tb80vacantphoto.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264827750707011730" border="0" /></a>Mountain heather is always a common and welcome sight in the high meadows. Its aromatic scent adds to the wonderful mix of alpine fragrances in the high country. I found this pink heather growing on the eastern shore of Deer Lake in the North Olympic Wilderness.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SRBs8eyCoJI/AAAAAAAAAR0/nc3FFYmDNH4/s1600-h/tb80vacantphoto.jpg"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></a><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SRBq7zn9_kI/AAAAAAAAARk/TP3J0hmoL8E/s1600-h/tb80vacant.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 397px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SRBq7zn9_kI/AAAAAAAAARk/TP3J0hmoL8E/s400/tb80vacant.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264825540098784834" border="0" /></a>The small creatures of the rain forest found many useful purposes for mountain heather in their everyday lives. Because it is an evergreen, they used the boughs year round in their festival decorations, especially their holiday wreaths, as seen in Mrs. Trowbridge's journal page above. They dried the flowers and used them as a potpourri, to mask the musky rodent scent in their dwellings. They even used the flowers as a tasty colorful garnish for their meals.<br /><br />In addition to being a fine scribe and painter, Mrs. T was a "crafty" creature as well. She always made a traditional heather wreath for the hearth mantle at Gathering Festival time.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19944474-7792244776738619379?l=trowbridgechronicles.blogspot.com'/></div>Bron Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07371697593470177928noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19944474.post-63280165227213161362008-10-27T07:50:00.000-07:002008-10-27T08:53:46.678-07:00THE POST MOLE<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SQXXnc0x2QI/AAAAAAAAARA/Zr_a2gZXJlU/s1600-h/tb78repairphoto.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 258px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SQXXnc0x2QI/AAAAAAAAARA/Zr_a2gZXJlU/s400/tb78repairphoto.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261848812404726018" border="0" /></a><br />One of my favorite times of the day in the rain forest is the early morning when the forest is shrouded in mist. The surrounding trees take on an eerie monochromatic hue. All is still and quite. I shot this photograph as we ascended Mount Angeles early one morning before the fog had lifted.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SQXVfuLpmwI/AAAAAAAAAQw/V_T4GFiYBNE/s1600-h/tb79repair.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 394px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SQXVfuLpmwI/AAAAAAAAAQw/V_T4GFiYBNE/s400/tb79repair.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261846480601848578" border="0" /></a>Mrs. Trowbridge captured a magical moment with her brush, just as the sun was breaking through the veil of mist to bathe the forest floor in warm sunlight. The mail mole makes his daily rounds, his breath leaving a vapor trail as he ambles along.<br /><br />The setting for Mrs. T's painting, between Wolf Bar and Wild Rose Creek, was thankfully spared from the devastation brought on by last December's "storm of the century". You may have seen the photo essay of the storm that I published on this blog last summer. Our son, Brad, and I hiked into Wild Rose Creek, where Mrs. T once lived, to survey the damage. Hundreds of years must pass before the Quinault Rain Forest can repair itself and heal its wounds.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19944474-6328016522721316136?l=trowbridgechronicles.blogspot.com'/></div>Bron Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07371697593470177928noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19944474.post-77753739258833474092008-10-20T14:48:00.000-07:002008-10-20T14:54:53.861-07:00THE POTTING SHEDWith summer behind and fall setting in, Mrs. Trowbridge sets about getting her cluttered potting shed in order. It appears that if she painted this en plein air, it was painted just as the sun was setting over the mountian, as a golden glow briefly illuminates the rain forest.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SPz88kP8i_I/AAAAAAAAAPE/64R9aTXIuec/s1600-h/tb78late.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SPz88kP8i_I/AAAAAAAAAPE/64R9aTXIuec/s400/tb78late.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5259356582314806258" border="0" /></a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19944474-7775373925883347409?l=trowbridgechronicles.blogspot.com'/></div>Bron Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07371697593470177928noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19944474.post-70647181317248525112008-07-25T17:19:00.000-07:002008-07-25T17:47:35.143-07:00SHELF FUNGUS DWELLINGSOur recent trip into Huckleberry Hollow was indeed memorable. For one thing, we afforded ourselves the luxury of packing in meat...a treat for any weary hiker, to be sure. There's nothing like the smell of wild Alaska salmon cooking in the wilderness, even if it's canned.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SIpu7cXKEXI/AAAAAAAAANo/wubiLlKYTiQ/s1600-h/tb77canned.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SIpu7cXKEXI/AAAAAAAAANo/wubiLlKYTiQ/s400/tb77canned.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5227112285021540722" border="0" /></a>We also encountered many fine examples of shelf fungus (Basidiomycola). They were used extensively by the shrews and other small creatures in the rain forest as dwellings, and were the equivalent of an expensive high-rise condo by our standards. Mrs. Trowbridge mentioned them occasionally in her journal, and I did manage to find a color sketch that she drew of her brother-in-law's new shelf fungus condo. Below is one that I photographed on the trip to share with you.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SIpu1V6nBfI/AAAAAAAAANg/k3OjwRMe-tE/s1600-h/tb77cannedlichen.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SIpu1V6nBfI/AAAAAAAAANg/k3OjwRMe-tE/s400/tb77cannedlichen.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5227112180211975666" border="0" /></a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19944474-7064718131724852511?l=trowbridgechronicles.blogspot.com'/></div>Bron Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07371697593470177928noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19944474.post-32043171898943419532008-07-12T10:06:00.000-07:002008-07-12T12:28:20.177-07:00RETURN TO HUCKLEBERRY HOLLOWSince this blog debuted on New Year's Day of 2006, I have yet to show you actual photos of the rain forest in and around Wild Rose Creek, where Mrs. Trowbridge once lived. The photos below are the first images that I have ever posted of this special place in the forest.<br /><br />My son, Brad and I had come to the Quinault Rain Forest to survey the damage from last year's "storm of the century" that hit the Washington Coast. We were shocked and dismayed to see entire forests brought down by the 100-mile-per-hour-plus winds. The entire mountain of old-growth rain forest south of Lake Quinault Lodge, where President Teddy Roosevelt once stayed, appeared to have been logged off. It was undoubtedly the biggest blow down ever witnessed in the Quinault Rain Forest.<br /><br />We forgot to bring any kind of time piece on this trek, and our cell phones didn't work in the wilderness, so we couldn't use them to check the time. Have you ever gone for days without knowing what time it is? It's a strange feeling.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SHjmAdxjLJI/AAAAAAAAANQ/KZh3ZcKiM6g/s1600-h/wildrosecreek1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SHjmAdxjLJI/AAAAAAAAANQ/KZh3ZcKiM6g/s400/wildrosecreek1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222176663602932882" border="0" /></a>WOLF BAR BEFORE - Once a verdant fern glade nestled among the young Douglas firs, Wolf Bar was unrecognizable when we first came upon it. We couldn't even find the spot where we had camped in previous years. The above picture of Wolf Bar was taken in 1992. The photo below shows what it looked like last week. This is where we camped our first night.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SHjl6D5bjnI/AAAAAAAAANI/p2yWMorby24/s1600-h/wildrosecreek2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SHjl6D5bjnI/AAAAAAAAANI/p2yWMorby24/s400/wildrosecreek2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222176553577451122" border="0" /></a>WOLF BAR AFTER - The giant sword ferns that were once the trademark of Wolf Bar have been buried under 18 inches of silt from the raging Quinault River that passes nearby. Several lifetimes must pass before the Quinault Rain Forest will be restored to its former splendor. Some of the trees in this forest are large enough to have attained world record status. I don't yet know if some of the world record trees were destroyed by the storm.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SHjl0UmcYbI/AAAAAAAAANA/Ecy87xiFRt0/s1600-h/wildrosecreek3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SHjl0UmcYbI/AAAAAAAAANA/Ecy87xiFRt0/s400/wildrosecreek3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222176454982001074" border="0" /></a>Countless thousands of trees were brought down, some caught by the river's flood surge, and carried downstream to form chaotic slash piles all along the course of the river.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SHjlmaA5ZhI/AAAAAAAAAM4/lv5s_xCz9iY/s1600-h/wildrosecreek4.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SHjlmaA5ZhI/AAAAAAAAAM4/lv5s_xCz9iY/s400/wildrosecreek4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222176215916963346" border="0" /></a>As daylight began to wane with the setting sun, the forest took on an eerie blue aura. I looked up river and wondered what tomorrow would bring. We would be exploring Wild Rose Creek, where Mrs. Trowbridge once lived, about two miles up river from Wolf Bar, where this photo was taken.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SHjldtnE0BI/AAAAAAAAAMw/R95wiVIoXe4/s1600-h/wildrosecreek5.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SHjldtnE0BI/AAAAAAAAAMw/R95wiVIoXe4/s400/wildrosecreek5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222176066558545938" border="0" /></a>I awoke the next morning with eager anticipation. The foggy morning mist soon burned off to reveal a splendid day. Upon arriving at Wild Rose Creek, we found more devastation. The creek had been storm-scoured to the extent that a rope ladder was required to descend 25 feet into the creek bed. The dirt and rock on the bank behind the ladder was once covered with lush vegetation.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SHjlYBHKJII/AAAAAAAAAMo/sxjIv3sU-C0/s1600-h/wildrosecreek6.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SHjlYBHKJII/AAAAAAAAAMo/sxjIv3sU-C0/s400/wildrosecreek6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222175968714171522" border="0" /></a>Exploring the creek further, we found large old growth trees that were effortlessly snapped like twigs by the forces of wind and water. Up to <span style="font-weight: bold;">15 inches</span> of rain fell during this one event!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SHjk1jqmTfI/AAAAAAAAAMg/liJ8pLOq-sE/s1600-h/wildrosecreek7.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SHjk1jqmTfI/AAAAAAAAAMg/liJ8pLOq-sE/s400/wildrosecreek7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222175376694201842" border="0" /></a>We continued upstream and finally reached a point where most of the devastation was behind us. This canyon is just downstream from what was once Mrs. Trowbridge's village of Huckleberry Hollow. I was pleased to see that the canyon Mrs. T wrote about in her journal was not severely affected by the storm.<br /><br />Just as we were about to embark on the second phase of our exploration, ascending above the canyon into Huckleberry Hollow itself, we were approached by two cranky forest rangers who asked us to leave the area immediately. So our exploration of Mrs. Trowbridge's village had come to a sudden halt.<br /><br />Before we left Wild Rose Creek, the ranger was kind enough to give me a souvenir to remember our trip by---a warning ticket, for trespassing into an area that had been closed-off because of storm damage.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19944474-3204317189894341953?l=trowbridgechronicles.blogspot.com'/></div>Bron Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07371697593470177928noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19944474.post-36578617549072271822008-06-27T22:22:00.000-07:002008-06-27T23:00:30.244-07:00SUMMER STORMAdverse weather can hit in the wilderness at any time of the year. A few years ago we encountered a snow storm on our way to the summit of Mount Townsend on <span style="font-weight: bold;">Fourth of July weekend</span>. People who we met on the trail coming down from the summit described "blizzard conditions" on top. One veteran backpacker told me that he'll hike in rain or snow, but he won't hike in a windstorm. So it was with Mrs. Trowbridge and Woodrow one summer night...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SGXKwWKwaJI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/wylls5PEnYM/s1600-h/tb76fierceb+copy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SGXKwWKwaJI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/wylls5PEnYM/s400/tb76fierceb+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216798675311814802" border="0" /></a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19944474-3657861754907227182?l=trowbridgechronicles.blogspot.com'/></div>Bron Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07371697593470177928noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19944474.post-14430208432872947912008-06-13T23:00:00.000-07:002008-06-13T23:22:50.312-07:00THE FORGOTTEN SKETCHBOOKSome have asked if Mrs. Trowbridge had any humorous inclinations. That was definitely Woodrow's department. Woodrow, as you may know, was Mrs. T's husband. She once referred to him as "a purveyor of the pun and punchline". So gifted was Woodrow as a humorist that he was the designated master of ceremonies at most of the village functions. His "Why did the snail cross the trail?" jokes evoked snickers throughout the rain forest.<br /><br />Mrs. T. devoted a number of pages in her journal to an old sketchbook that was buried in the clutter of her parlor. She writes...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SFNetnSWVXI/AAAAAAAAALo/FZuOJ1oajQk/s1600-h/tb75forgotten.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SFNetnSWVXI/AAAAAAAAALo/FZuOJ1oajQk/s400/tb75forgotten.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5211613331530863986" border="0" /></a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19944474-1443020843287294791?l=trowbridgechronicles.blogspot.com'/></div>Bron Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07371697593470177928noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19944474.post-19806287906324942922008-05-30T07:37:00.000-07:002008-05-30T15:50:58.871-07:00WOODROW'S BAKERYThe dwellings and shops of small creatures in rain forest villages were typically built out of sight and away from the dangers of destruction by the hooves and claws of larger mammals. They were often hidden under tree roots and logs. Yet their dwellings were always well-maintained, and often decorated with forest flowers. Woodrow’s shoppe was quite typical in that regard. <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>The name “<st1:place st="on"><st1:placename st="on">Reflection</st1:placename> <st1:placetype st="on">Lake</st1:placetype></st1:place>” refers to Woodrow’s place of birth, up the mountain from Huckleberry Hollow. His family moved to Huckleberry Hollow when he was a baby shrew. Woodrow was featured in the very <a href="http://www.bronsmith.com/trowbridge/uploaded_images/trowbridge1flavor-771375.jpg">first episode </a>of Trowbridge Chronicles.<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Several years ago our expedition to explore Reflection Lake was put on hold when one member of our party became ill, and we were forced to turn back. I have yet to visit Reflection Lake. It's a steep climb...the lake is on top of the mountain.<br /></p>For those of you who would like to know the identity of the flowers in Mrs. Trowbridge's painting, they are as follows: the hanging basket in the upper right corner contains Smooth Douglasia (Douglasia laevigata); Left window box: Magenta Paintbrush (Castilleja parviflora oreopola) This flower is endemic to the Olympic Mountains; Right window box: Mountain Owl-Clover (Orthocarpus imbricatus); Ground barrels - rear white flowers, left side: American Bistort (Polygonum bistortoids); rear yellow flower: Buttercup (Ranunculus occidentalis); rear purple flower: Fletts Violet (Viola flettii) Endemic to the Olympic Mountains; front barrell: Mountain Oxytropis (Oxytropis monticola); Sign by Huckleberry Hollow Sign Shoppe.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SECEgTGcRNI/AAAAAAAAALg/Fu7X8W8kqw4/s1600-h/tb74electricity.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SECEgTGcRNI/AAAAAAAAALg/Fu7X8W8kqw4/s400/tb74electricity.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5206306859658265810" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SEAReTGcRMI/AAAAAAAAALY/WCNtfthKX7E/s1600-h/tb74electricity.jpg"><br /></a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19944474-1980628790632494292?l=trowbridgechronicles.blogspot.com'/></div>Bron Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07371697593470177928noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19944474.post-81985677101719371272008-05-05T22:27:00.000-07:002008-05-05T22:49:12.381-07:00The TART CHARTIf anything is true of a shrew, it is that they are voracious eaters, as Mrs. Trowbridge comments in her Tart Chart. Shrews can be observed frantically scampering about the forest floor in search of their next snack or meal. They never stop and smell the roses. There's no time for that. They would starve if they did. Aren't you glad you're not a Trowbridge shrew.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SB_xGBK__nI/AAAAAAAAALI/2J0vwEHEdpA/s1600-h/tb73seed.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SB_xGBK__nI/AAAAAAAAALI/2J0vwEHEdpA/s400/tb73seed.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5197137580704923250" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SB_siRK__mI/AAAAAAAAALA/RhtdIfokhmA/s1600-h/tb73seed.jpg"><br /></a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19944474-8198567710171937127?l=trowbridgechronicles.blogspot.com'/></div>Bron Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07371697593470177928noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19944474.post-59495944272406415642008-04-27T22:17:00.000-07:002008-04-27T22:45:47.191-07:00DAYBREAK AT THE FALLSIf, but only I could find a wormhole in the rain forest, or a wrinkle in time...I would return to the rain forest just as it was 200 years ago, at the beginning of the 19th century, when Huckleberry Hollow was a busy rain forest village. What a thrill it would be to meet Mrs. Trowbridge, and perhaps join her on a plein air painting trek! I could learn so much from her.<br /><br />In today's post, Mrs. T speaks of the joy she finds in her daily journal time...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SBVecxK__lI/AAAAAAAAAK4/9CD1tPHLjuY/s1600-h/tb72failtext.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SBVecxK__lI/AAAAAAAAAK4/9CD1tPHLjuY/s400/tb72failtext.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5194161593570557522" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SBVeURK__kI/AAAAAAAAAKw/LRknMykov_Q/s1600-h/tb72fail.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/SBVeURK__kI/AAAAAAAAAKw/LRknMykov_Q/s400/tb72fail.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5194161447541669442" border="0" /></a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19944474-5949594427240641564?l=trowbridgechronicles.blogspot.com'/></div>Bron Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07371697593470177928noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19944474.post-30411730279236145042008-04-08T22:21:00.001-07:002008-04-08T22:33:16.069-07:00WINTER PROVISIONSAfter a sojourn in the South Seas, we return to the rain forest and find Mrs. Trowbridge reflecting on the past winter months. The lives of a Trowbridge shrew family depend completely on their success at food gathering through the summer months. Mrs. T. explains it best...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/R_xStTbNFYI/AAAAAAAAAKo/RRXo33CZ5aY/s1600-h/tb70save+copy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/R_xStTbNFYI/AAAAAAAAAKo/RRXo33CZ5aY/s400/tb70save+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5187111809085937026" border="0" /></a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19944474-3041173027923614504?l=trowbridgechronicles.blogspot.com'/></div>Bron Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07371697593470177928noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19944474.post-84531901930616078732008-03-18T16:52:00.001-07:002008-03-18T17:05:31.207-07:00SOUTH SEA SHELLBecause shells aren't very heavy, we found evidence on our recent South Seas expedition that the shrews of old used large conch shells for portable or temporary housing. A group of shrews could move a conch shell for a short distance in order to move the "shelling" (shell dwelling) out of the hot sun or the torrential rain. This is one of several shell paintings that Mrs. Trowbridge created resulting from her many hours of research at the Huckleberry Hollow library.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/R-BV79R97NI/AAAAAAAAAKY/6Is9vQCegdA/s1600-h/tb69shell.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/R-BV79R97NI/AAAAAAAAAKY/6Is9vQCegdA/s400/tb69shell.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5179234060026637522" border="0" /></a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19944474-8453190193061607873?l=trowbridgechronicles.blogspot.com'/></div>Bron Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07371697593470177928noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19944474.post-47333481682441415822008-02-22T19:08:00.001-08:002008-02-22T19:39:19.604-08:00BIRD OF PARADISE at TITIKAVEKAI have received multiple offers from numerous individuals who invest in rare commodities to purchase the original Trowbridge Chronicles journal that I found in the Quinault Rain Forest several years ago. I declined them all. I fully intend to keep Mrs. Trowbridge's journal in my possession, and to share it with you, the readers of her journal.<br /><br />This is another one of her tropical flower paintings. She spent many hours at the library in Huckleberry Hollow studying the flora, fauna and lore of her South Seas ancestors. This painting is a Bird of Paradise (Heliconia psittacorum). I am continually amazed by the mastery of the watercolor medium that Mrs. T displayed in her floral paintings.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/R7-OSDi9tnI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/52t2MMCL0BU/s1600-h/tb71birdofparadise.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oDnU9UKR7C8/R7-OSDi9tnI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/52t2MMCL0BU/s400/tb71birdofparadise.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5170007338085365362" border="0" /></a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19944474-4733348168244141582?l=trowbridgechronicles.blogspot.com'/></div>Bron Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07371697593470177928noreply@blogger.com10