I may not be a fan of the Arizona summer heat, but I absolutely love the weather that rolls in with a good monsoon storm.

I don’t know what it is about the rain that’s always put a smile on my face.

Growing up in Georgia, the rain was typically accompanied by a healthy chorus of lightning, as well as booming thunder that would shake the house. I probably should have been afraid of it, but I always found that particular mixture of noises to be as soothing as a lullaby.

I remember one summer day; the family was playing baseball in the side yard when we heard what sounded like a stampede of horses racing toward us from the distance. This rush of sound moved over the fields across the road like an oncoming locomotive and none of us had any idea what was going on until the wave of rain finally washed over us.

It’s hard to put that experience into words, but I’ve never heard or seen rain behave the same way since. It was like there was a perfect line of where rain was and where rain wasn’t and, until it hit us, the only evidence of its existence was a growing, thunderous flood of sound.

A few years later, my brother and I went fishing with our dad on a cow pond down the road. It was a perfectly clear day and, as far as we had heard, there was no rain in the forecast. We were, of course, the furthest we could possibly be from the dock when some nasty clouds rolled in.

As soon as we saw the trouble brewing, my dad started making a beeline for the dock. But this storm was moving like the devil and, before we knew it, the sky overhead was dark and crackling with lightning.

We were maybe 10 feet from shore when the big bolt hit. I watched as an electric blue whip lashed out of the sky, snaked its way down a nearby tree, launched out toward the water and exploded against a metal fence.

The next sound I heard was a loud splash. While I sat stupefied by what I was seeing, my brother had decided to take flight. I think he was hoping to land on the shore and missed. When he came up, he helped pull the boat to shore and we all high-tailed it to a nearby cabin to wait out the storm and thank our lucky stars.

Back when I was attending Northern Arizona University, I worked for the grounds crew during the summer, helping out on the irrigation team.

One of my favorite things about that job was that it kept me outdoors most of the time and, during the monsoon season, the rain came like clockwork. Every afternoon at around 3 p.m., a nice, steady drizzle would kick up. Sometimes it would only last about half an hour and other times it would flood us out of work for the rest of the afternoon.

As I write this, Jenn and I are planning to head up north for a couple of days leading up to the Fourth of July. We’ll be visiting her family in Happy Jack, where I’m basically guaranteed to enjoy a downpour or two. One of my favorite things is to sit out on a porch and read a good book while the heavens cascade around me. Combine that with the fresh mountain air, no TV or phones and some board games, and I’m really looking forward to our miniature retreat.