The advent of central air conditioning is the leading factor contributing to the huge number of people moving to desert areas such as Las Vegas, NV and Phoenix, AZ. Probably also other cities in other southern states in the U.S., like Houston. Places where things are fine, until they aren't.
The house where I'm staying has the benefit that it actually has two central AC units, so when one died, the other could at least keep half of the house at a tolerable temperature. And the chances of massive, extended power outages like the one recently experienced in Houston are lower here for a number of reasons. I do not consider this sufficient reason to move to the desert, just noting the overall situation.
In any case, when central air units die, it is very expensive to replace them. But at least mildly entertaining to watch.
Shiny new unit arrives:

Craning out part of the old unit:

And old swamp cooler also got taken out at the same time since it hasn't been useable for a while now.

Whee!

Swamp coolers are far more energy-efficient than air conditioners. They are basically just giant fans that blow across water, using evaporative cooling to lower the local temperature. However, they don't work as well once the desert hits the monsoon season, so they've generally fallen out of favor. In addition to their energy efficiency, they offer the advantage that they can be used with the windows open. On the other hand, because they rely on water, they tend to rust out over time.
One of the other historic climate control methods in this area is flood irrigation. Flood irrigation is not particularly water-efficient, but it is quite nice in several different ways. For one thing, it provides deep watering that is beneficial for keeping large shade trees alive. Shade from trees is rather precious in the desert. For another thing, the evaporative cooling of flood irrigation does help keep flood-irrigated neighborhoods cooler than non-flood-irrigated neighborhoods. You can feel a noticeable temperature difference when riding a bicycle from a non-flood-irrigated area into a flood-irrigated area.
Much of the flood irrigation water travels to different neighborhoods through a network of canals. The original canal network was created by the Hohokam more than 1400 years ago, but then abandoned at around AD 1450 for unknown but likely climate-related reasons. In the recent past, many of the canals in this region were tree-lined, and served as places where people could go to swim and cool off during the summer heat. At some point that ended, I believe under the thinking that the trees were causing a lot of water loss, and maybe also the canal structure changed to the point where it no longer seemed safe or prudent for people to swim in the canals. Not sure. Some more specific history can be found here, in any case. But now the canal network forms an alternative transportation system that is tangential to the street grids, so the canals remain a great and lower-stress place for riding bikes or walking the dog. At least until a person reaches a road crossing and has to play "frogger" across 4-6 lanes of traffic traveling at speeds of 45 mph or more.
Anyway. The house where I'm staying has flood irrigation, and was scheduled to receive water yesterday. At the Farmer House, a Zanjero (just learned the term!) opened the valves, but here, the homeowner is supposed to open the valves. Except the current homeowners are down in southern Arizona, so I'm in charge.
My inner five-year-old was pleased.

12-second video of water coming out:
The second valve:

The second of the two valves for this house, which is in the backyard, supplies the front yard, via a small "creek" that forms alongside the house.
I was trying to read papers while sitting at a desk, but got distracted by some of the small drama of the flood irrigation outside the window next to the desk, where the flood water chased a bunch of beetles out of their hiding places and onto a small rock island (center of 20-second video below):
I didn't get this part on film, but periodically a beetle would just decide to take the plunge and would jump off the rock into the water, swimming away towards the other side. I don't know why more of them didn't just try and get closer to the house, where the ground was higher, but maybe staying in the shade was a higher priority than staying dry.
At one point, a desiccated (ornamental) orange with one side punched in floated past, looking like a small boat, and 3-4 beetles tried to jump into it, capsizing it.
Typically, the flood irrigation waters take a day or two to sink into the soil, and then it's back to desert life as usual.
The house where I'm staying has the benefit that it actually has two central AC units, so when one died, the other could at least keep half of the house at a tolerable temperature. And the chances of massive, extended power outages like the one recently experienced in Houston are lower here for a number of reasons. I do not consider this sufficient reason to move to the desert, just noting the overall situation.
In any case, when central air units die, it is very expensive to replace them. But at least mildly entertaining to watch.
Shiny new unit arrives:

Craning out part of the old unit:

And old swamp cooler also got taken out at the same time since it hasn't been useable for a while now.

Whee!

Swamp coolers are far more energy-efficient than air conditioners. They are basically just giant fans that blow across water, using evaporative cooling to lower the local temperature. However, they don't work as well once the desert hits the monsoon season, so they've generally fallen out of favor. In addition to their energy efficiency, they offer the advantage that they can be used with the windows open. On the other hand, because they rely on water, they tend to rust out over time.
One of the other historic climate control methods in this area is flood irrigation. Flood irrigation is not particularly water-efficient, but it is quite nice in several different ways. For one thing, it provides deep watering that is beneficial for keeping large shade trees alive. Shade from trees is rather precious in the desert. For another thing, the evaporative cooling of flood irrigation does help keep flood-irrigated neighborhoods cooler than non-flood-irrigated neighborhoods. You can feel a noticeable temperature difference when riding a bicycle from a non-flood-irrigated area into a flood-irrigated area.
Much of the flood irrigation water travels to different neighborhoods through a network of canals. The original canal network was created by the Hohokam more than 1400 years ago, but then abandoned at around AD 1450 for unknown but likely climate-related reasons. In the recent past, many of the canals in this region were tree-lined, and served as places where people could go to swim and cool off during the summer heat. At some point that ended, I believe under the thinking that the trees were causing a lot of water loss, and maybe also the canal structure changed to the point where it no longer seemed safe or prudent for people to swim in the canals. Not sure. Some more specific history can be found here, in any case. But now the canal network forms an alternative transportation system that is tangential to the street grids, so the canals remain a great and lower-stress place for riding bikes or walking the dog. At least until a person reaches a road crossing and has to play "frogger" across 4-6 lanes of traffic traveling at speeds of 45 mph or more.
Anyway. The house where I'm staying has flood irrigation, and was scheduled to receive water yesterday. At the Farmer House, a Zanjero (just learned the term!) opened the valves, but here, the homeowner is supposed to open the valves. Except the current homeowners are down in southern Arizona, so I'm in charge.
My inner five-year-old was pleased.

12-second video of water coming out:
The second valve:

The second of the two valves for this house, which is in the backyard, supplies the front yard, via a small "creek" that forms alongside the house.
I was trying to read papers while sitting at a desk, but got distracted by some of the small drama of the flood irrigation outside the window next to the desk, where the flood water chased a bunch of beetles out of their hiding places and onto a small rock island (center of 20-second video below):
I didn't get this part on film, but periodically a beetle would just decide to take the plunge and would jump off the rock into the water, swimming away towards the other side. I don't know why more of them didn't just try and get closer to the house, where the ground was higher, but maybe staying in the shade was a higher priority than staying dry.
At one point, a desiccated (ornamental) orange with one side punched in floated past, looking like a small boat, and 3-4 beetles tried to jump into it, capsizing it.
Typically, the flood irrigation waters take a day or two to sink into the soil, and then it's back to desert life as usual.