Sometimes you just need a change of scenery. A break in your routine. To get away.

After the past few months we've had, transitioning to a life on our sailboat, spending a few days grounded in the dry desert of Palm Springs sounded perfect.

And it was.

I didn't go into Palm Springs with any expectations. I was excited, yes, for warm weather and the company of good friends. After spending three years living in Arizona, though, the allure of the desert had escaped me. I wasn't expecting to love Palm Springs.

But I did.

I loved it so much. As soon as I stepped off of the plane and into the tiny airport, the retro, quirky, mid-century energy of Palm Springs captured my heart. 

We were lucky to spend our time there in the beautiful home of our friends Dave and Michelle. In those white, sunlit rooms, life slowed down for us. Garrett and I got in the night before everyone else, and the next day, we soaked up the ease that comes with being in a suburban town. We went for a run in the quiet neighborhood and got cheers from a couple two doors down for braving the heat. I took my time grocery shopping, marveling at the size and space of the aisles (have you ever shopped in a city supermarket? It isn't fun). Garrett handled a few work calls, and I splashed around in the pool. When the sun got strong, I went inside to prepare dinner and pitcher margaritas for the evening arrival of our group. Garrett put a record on the turntable. We dined outside and soaked in the hot tub when the sun went down. It was heavenly. The tone for the weekend was set.

The next few days were spent with slow, coffee and book-filled mornings followed by fast, margarita and swimming-filled afternoons. They were spent practicing yoga outside and dancing to 1950s records. We ventured beyond the walls of the house to explore downtown Palm Springs and enjoyed a beautiful dinner al fresco at the quaint Farm restaurant. We had cocktails at the Ace Hotel and brunch at King's Highway. We had more cocktails at the Parker Hotel. We saw a Warhol exhibit at the Palm Springs Art Museum. I made John and Jackie walk around the neighborhood for a photo shoot. We played croquet. We laughed, a lot. It was exactly the getaway we needed.

I'll forever think of Palm Springs as a place where Buddy Holly plays off of a turntable record and margaritas are sipped from plastic glasses in the pool. Where croquet is set up on the lawn and sliding glass doors are thrown open to capture the palm tree breeze. Where homes are built low into the landscape of the desert and accented with pops of color. Where, no matter what year it really is, you'll feel like you've stepped back into the 1950s.