I have loved everything about the Witch Tree in norther MN on the shores of Lake Superior since I first learned about it. Known to be over 300 years old this gnarled icon of the Ojibwa has eluded biologists who have no idea how this tree has lived on rock without soil for nourishment. I wonder how, with all the terrible storms, it anchors it's self? How it became twisted and gnarled I do not know; it seems to have all the sunlight it could ever need. It grows alone in solitude in a place of tranquility and beauty.
In a way this could be my soul. Old, worn and twisted. Effected by the surrounding elements that only it knows, yet beautiful in it's uniqueness, strength and defiance.
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