It took me a long time to get up the guts to move to the desert because I was terrified of its summers: 100+ degree days, high altitude sun, very little shade. There’s a joke around town that Grand Junction is perfect except for three things: June, July, and August.

This is only the start of my second summer, and temps haven’t yet been unbearable. Still, I’m a little in love with the extreme-ness of this place. I’m even looking forward to the string of months where a person can guzzle a gallon of water and still not be quenched. For the next three months, each day will require a sort of special weather presence that requires my utmost attention.

Like how a single afternoon storm can rocket the temps from blistering to sweater-worthy. Or how the Colorado can go from a near-glassy slow flow to a muddy rage below the Redlands bridge. The metal clasp of a seatbelt could give you third degree burns if you lose focus. Hail could (and will) crack the windshield of your car.

The prickly pears and yuccas already threw out their flowers in the last cool gasp of spring. Now, they’re bare, toughening up for the sear of the summer sun as I toughen up too.

The baby hummingbirds on my porch must be mere days away from leaving the nest, the two of them almost too big for their little cup woven out of leaf bits and spider webs. When they’re finally out, I can hang the hammock between the posts of the porch and really soak in the summer heat.

But the scents this time of year: *chef’s kiss*

6 Scents Of The Summer Desert

1. The desert perfume just before and after rain

2. The earthiness of horse sweat on denim

3. The liquid ink scent of a clear night sky, the powder sugar pinpricks of constellations

4. The muddy edge of the Colorado (you can smell a great blue heron take flight if you try)

5. The smell of your own beaded sweat on an afternoon far hotter than you realized

6. Your fancy Japanese cotton mattress chilled by the refreshingly damp air of the swamp cooler