Weathered trees along the Gros Morn shore are testimony to the hardship this country knew before. Mother Nature sculpts her subjects to submission on this land, while weathered wind blown tree limbs, respect they do command. A storm passes in the distance leaving tired limbs that are few, as they bathe in warmer sunshine with hopes their seedlings renew. Hurricane force gales are plenty, and are only what they know, these trees resist her wind gusts, by standing toe to toe. They huddle together like family, who obviously care, in hopes of a sunny tomorrow, which often comes too rare. Kings and queens, they are acknowledged, with crimson at their feet, possessing majestic will power, they survive in the face of defeat.