At Summer’s End, Desert Plunges Into Social Swim

Every September, I almost go out and buy a pair of saddle shoes, a pencil box and a new sweater and skirt. When September huffs and puffs through the heat to get to the autumnal equinox, I feel there is something I should be doing.

I should be going back to school. I feel as if everyone else were marching by in a glittering parade going somewhere wonderful, while I stand on the curb and scuff my toes.

In the Coachella Valley, it’s the same thing. There’s a stirring in the air that will whirl to a climax in November when all of the wintertime people are back.

This is the time of the year when the dwellers in Saskatoon and Minneapolis come back to the desert to escape shoveling snow and humoring the oil burner.

The somnolent summer is on its way out. The local booster organizations say that the Coachella Valley is becoming more and more a year-round place to live and figures show that it is crawling that way. But if you live in the area, as I have for almost a year, you treasure the friendships and invitations of your friends who live where there is a sea breeze.

For the past week, in the morning when Peaches and I go out to pick up The Times, there has been a delightful, cool breeze. But it languishes about 8 a.m. and the sun clangs down like a tin dishpan. I have asked a number of year-round residents if the slight cooling trend is to be taken seriously or must I wait until November. They all say the same thing. There is usually a cooling respite followed by a final biblical blast of heat before the advertised climate of Eden comes back to stay.

Some of the elegant restaurants are beginning to open but Maureen Dailey, a restaurant critic and journalist, says that all of them will be open in November.

Down at the corner is a restaurant called the Huntsman. The owners also have a place in Ireland where they repair in the summer but leave the local Huntsman open and staffed. What a delicious balance: Kerry in the summer and La Quinta in the winter.

In the summer, the large hotels close their big and elegant dining rooms and guests make do with the second- and third-string restaurants in the hotels.

The golf clubs close their dining rooms and members make do with a sandwich in the bar or the coffee shop. They close the courses in late September and early October to refurbish the greens. Someone who claims to have counted says there are 100 golf courses. All of them will be closely cropped, which is called “scalping,” and rye grass seed will be planted. In a few weeks, the greens are back to their velvet selves.

The Palm Springs Art Museum opened this week; the lifesaving libraries have been open all summer long. The McCallum Theater pares their number of productions in the summer and resumes their full schedule in the fall.

All during the season, as the winter months are grandly called, the Canadian visitors can hear news from back home on local radio, even including the Canadian stock market reports. The Canadians leave earlier than some of the others.

The United States Immigration Department limits their visit to six months and the Canadian government limits some of their benefits if they stay longer.

The summer has great compensations, like shorter lines at the supermarkets and less traffic on the main artery through the desert, Highway 111.

In another month, the desert will be back in top social form, having benefits for everything. Here’s a bit of sociological lore for you: The local newspaper stops its social news in the summer.

Today, the sky is gentian blue and the lawns are cropped down to their beige roots. It must be autumn.