A new summer is here in the Coachella Valley, and the familiar question hangs in the air: how brutal will this one be?
Those of us who've lived here know about the 120-degree spells and the lingering 110-degree afternoons that can stretch into October.
And yet, as strange as it may sound, I have come to think that our desert summers deserve a defense.
Not because they are easy. They are not. But as the world gets hotter, the Coachella Valley has something many other places do not: a long history of adapting to extreme heat. We know how to live around it, plan for it, respect it and, at times, even enjoy it.
One of our biggest advantages is dry air. Heat is not just a number on a thermometer. Humidity, wind and sun exposure all shape how dangerous
it feels. That is why meteorologists and public health experts often look at measurements such as wet-bulb globe temperature, which accounts for more than air temperature alone. Humid heat makes it harder for the body to cool itself through sweat.
Anyone who exercises outdoors in the Valley during the hot months understands this intuitively. You stop moving, sweat forms quickly on your skin, and in our dry air it evaporates almost immediately. That does not make 110 degrees comfortable, and it certainly does not make it safe to ignore. But it is different from the suffocating heat that settles over humid cities, where the air itself seems to resist your body’s effort to cool down.
In recent weeks, parts of the East Coast have gone through dangerous heat events. Temperatures that may look lower on paper can feel far more punishing once humidity is included. Meanwhile, a 100-degree day in the desert, while hot, can feel almost merciful by comparison.
When I moved to the Valley, friends and family members thought I was insane for choosing to live in the desert. I did not fully understand what I was getting into until I experienced my first 124-degree summer day. My brother, who lives in Connecticut, still makes patronizing jokes about the heat we endure every year.
For a long time, I had a standard response: yes, the summer is rough, but I would take it over an East Coast winter. In much of the Northeast, daily life retreats indoors for months. The streets grow quiet. Trees lose their leaves. The sun disappears early. Winter can make public life feel suspended.
But the recent heat waves in the East Coast and Europe have made me see the comparison differently. Friends in Paris have tried to sleep with wet towels during heat waves. In New York and other major cities, high humidity and dense concrete can turn hot days into oppressive nights, with sidewalks, buildings and asphalt radiating heat long after sunset. Many older cities were simply not designed for this new reality.
The Coachella Valley, by contrast, was built with heat in mind. Our homes are designed around air conditioning. Our routines shift with the temperature. We know the value of mornings, evenings, pools, shade, hydration and indoor gathering places. We do not treat heat as an occasional emergency; we treat it as a season.
That does not mean we are finished adapting. Far from it. If we want our summers to remain livable, we need more shade on our streets, more comfortable bus stops, more trees and shade structures where they can survive, and more public spaces designed for evening life. We should be leading the country in desert urbanism, not merely surviving it.
As the world inevitably gets warmer, places that once seemed naturally comfortable may become increasingly strained. Our desert, for all its extremes, may begin to look different: not as an impossible place to live, but as a place that has already learned some of the lessons others are only beginning to confront.
As we enter another summer, I find myself unexpectedly grateful for this season. Summer is my favorite time of year in the desert. Nothing beats the quiet of a hot night, the glow of the mountains after sunset, and a pool party under the stars.
Miguel Guevara lives in Palm Springs and works in the technology industry.
This article originally appeared on Palm Springs Desert Sun: In defense of Palm Springs summers, extreme heat and all
