Experiences Rich In Meaning

Recently, here in Utah, we have been having a good round of wet weather.  With this has come strong wind as high pressure systems get pushed around by the cooler low pressure systems.
I love nature.  I love it in all of its variety.  I love sunny days and I love the chaos inherently brought on in dark clouds and the accompanying ominous imagery.
As I sat at work the other day, I watched as a strong rain storm marched North from the South-West, over the Great Salt Lake.  From where I sat, I could watch in peace out at the dust and salt that had been kicked up by the power of the storm.  However within a few moments a circulating pattern emerged over the lake just due west of my location and the storm started heading directly my way.
Within 5 minutes a light breeze was felt.  Followed within a few seconds by stronger and stronger gusts, until the point came when the front of the storm was just mere minutes away.  The wind was so strong and frantic that the plum trees around my work, were all shaken violently at the presence and power of the storm.  They seemed absolutely terrified.
As I sat and watched all of the trees around me shaken in what seemed to me to be pure terror I began to notice something else.  The seeds from a nearby Elm tree had begun to float through the air.  First as a trickle but as the wind picked up, the seeds made it began to look more like a snow storm had come instead of a Spring rainstorm.

Elm seeds

 Flying through the air with incredible velocity, I watched as they just covered everything in front of them.  Within seconds of their passing, the rain began to fall.  This was no ordinary rain for Utah, though.  This was torrential!  It was conjoined by hail.  Big hail!  A couple of the blocks that I found were approaching marble size.  This all lasted for at least 5 minutes.  Yet in those few minutes, the road in front of my work began to look more like a river.
At the passing of the quick but strong storm, I noticed that the recently white colored elm, now had nearly no white on it.  It was all green.  Granted many of the leaves had been cut, sliced and sheared off, but many others were still remaining.  The ground below the tree was partly white from the seeds, but the still strong wind that remained after the rain and the hail had passed was making light work for the neighboring landowner to have to clean.
I wondered at what this tree had felt about the menacing storm. As I was pondering I sat and watched the still blowing wind carry the seeds around my work, spread over the ground, up in the air, across the road out into the field across the street and beyond my view.  To myself, I queried, "out of these many hundreds or even thousands of seeds, how many would ever be planted?  How many would ever get the chance to grow beyond a seed, into a sapling and perhaps even into a tree?"
Due to the age of the tree (very mature), and the low number of existing Elm trees around this locale, I surmised that less than 1% of these seeds would ever be trees, or even grow into saplings.  Yet in spite of these great odds, I couldn't help but think that this mother tree was pleased to have such a strong storm to come along and facilitate her in getting her seeds out to areas where they might have a better chance to grow to their fullest potential.
Where all of the trees had seemed to have shaken in terror of the storm, during the violent blowing this tree didn't seem much bothered at all.  In fact as I had watched, instead of being forced dramatically lower, this trees height seemed hardly moved.  Moreover, the branches of this tree were almost being blown in an upward motion.  It almost seemed -if nothing else, than in my mind's eye- as if this tree was welcoming the presence of the power of the storm.
I could see her raising her branches up to the heavens in what seemed to me to be an attitude of thanks and praise.  For in this wind, the seeds that she had produced and nurtured, now had the best chance of being carried wide and far to fertile places; where, when they landed, they would meet soft, moist dirt, and possibly even pushed down into the dirt, by the falling hail.
No.  Unlike the other trees that surround my work, which had not taken sufficient strength to their roots (See Jacob 5:48) as this big Elm had over many years of toil; this tree was not terrified by the storm, but rather found it to be a day of praise.
Depending on which tree I evaluated, I would say that this day was either a Great or a Dreadful Day.  (See Joseph Smith-History 1:38-39)