Desert Storm

When I was a kid, we’d spend hours splashing in puddles and watching the clouds roll in like waves. It’s never just gray here, but instead continuously reflects the landscape like a seasoned shape shifter. Streaming light breaks through every now and then to dance on the pavement, and occasionally, snow will fall lightly on the mountains behind us. The hubs and I went for a drive with the baby this weekend and while he dozed to the pitter-patter of raindrops, I opened my window to the smell of sage and the magic of my childhood. People ask me why despite living overseas and having opportunities to move to the “big cities,” I always find myself back here. The truth is I’d miss the breathing room, and the inspiration it cultivates. There’s something about the desert that lives in my soul, and after long hours and sleepless nights, it’s the inaudible sigh I need to remind me what really matters. What about you? Where do you feel inspired?

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Some Like it Hot

My grandfather was a huge proponent of designing structures around the desert instead of redesigning the desert to accommodate his structures. As a result, the landscape’s colors and textures greatly influenced his décor, and apparently, mine. Believe me, I used to hate the desert. The dirt, the sweat, the coyotes, yada yada. But in my old age I've really come to appreciate its beauty and continuously find myself inspired by the things I used to take for granted. Who knew? Viva la desert!

P.S. Someone remind me of this post in two months when my face is melting off and I’m using my knees to drive because the steering wheel of my car is 2,000 degrees.

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Desert Digs

(Photos by Julius Shulman and David Glomb via psmodcom.com)

I didn’t realize my grandfather, E. Stewart Williams, was an amazing mid-century modern architect until later in life. All I knew growing up was that lemons for martinis were picked from the tree in the courtyard, pocket doors left fewer hiding places, the indoor/outdoor fireplace was not a playground, and the fort we built high-up in the Tamarisk trees was rad. These days, it’s better known for its architecture, but it will always be Poppy and Nanny’s Palm Springs Paradise to me.

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