The Rite of Spring

You know what the Palisades was to me and my family? It was a bubble. A false sense of security clearly, but for a time, it was a place where I watched extreme things happen elsewhere. I would joke about year-round 70’s and express gratitude for the ocean breeze that kept us cool. Now I’m in the thick of it. We swung straight into 100° heat where I now currently reside for multiple days in a row. 

I stepped outside with Stravinsky’s The Rite of Spring playing in my head, thinking about that scene in Fantasia where the dinosaurs stand in blistering heat, gazing up at the relentless sun, the land dried out around them, everything pushed past its limit. And then you remember, that sequence didn’t start there. It began with rain. That’s what this feels like. Just weeks ago, after months of heavy rain and saturated ground, we were dealing with flooding and mudslide risk. 

And now it’s hot, dry, and already starting to feel brittle. It’s not just the heat, it’s the speed of the swing.

Across the West, we’re seeing longer dry stretches, stressed water systems, and landscapes that are struggling to recover. This kind of heat pulls moisture out of the soil fast. What should have felt like the end of winter felt instead like late summer.

That shift has consequences.

Invasive plants move in quickly under these conditions. They grow fast, take over space meant for native species, and leave behind dry, volatile fuel. At the same time, water becomes more limited, making it harder for healthy ecosystems to reestablish and hold their ground.

This is how risk builds quietly, piece by piece.

And it forces a harder question than we’re used to asking.

Not just how we respond when disaster hits, but how we rebuild in a way that actually holds up to what’s coming.

That means rethinking what we plant, how we manage land, and how we design our homes and communities. It means choosing water efficiency, prioritizing native and fire-resilient landscapes, and actively removing invasive species before they take over.

And it also means taking a hard look at how we power our homes.

As temperatures rise, the systems we rely on are being pushed to their limits. We’re already seeing strain, price volatility, and uncertainty tied to gas. And it’s not just global tension. We’re watching active conflict in Iran disrupt one of the most critical energy corridors in the world. A huge portion of global oil moves through that region, and when that flow is threatened, prices don’t wait. They react immediately. Supply risk goes up, shipping slows down, and costs rise. 

And those swings show up right at the pump, and in our homes.

It’s becoming harder to ignore how exposed that leaves communities, especially during extreme weather.

Electrification offers a different path. Cleaner energy, more efficient systems, and the ability to pair with local power sources like solar and battery storage. Not just as a climate solution, but as a stability solution.

Because when everything else is under pressure, the last thing you want is a system that adds more risk.

The future we’re moving toward is electric. More resilient. More adaptable to extremes. Better aligned with the reality we’re now living in.

The conditions we’re experiencing right now are not an anomaly. They’re a preview.

And what we do next will shape whether our communities can withstand what’s ahead or continue to be caught off guard.