Food For Thought: Summer, Week 4

Heat waves and staying positive

Jun 25, 2025

∙ Paid

I have been feeling a lot of climate grief lately. New Mexico has been hot and dry this summer, after a hot and dry and very windy spring. We’ve had July temperatures in May. The desiccating winds have continued into June. Our rivers are low or dried up completely because we didn’t get enough snow pack over the winter to sustain them. Piñon trees are dying. The sky has been heavy with smoke from wildfires.

New York City hit 100 degrees yesterday, and The New York Times published an article called 27 No-Cook Recipes for a Heat Wave. In my summer melancholy, the tone struck me as a bit off-key. Are we meant to ignore the climate and delight in the flavors of a sweaty meal?

But I also learned a new word this week: sanguine.

adjective

optimistic or positive, especially in an apparently bad or difficult situation.

Perhaps it is best to stay cheerful despite the news. Perhaps we should smile through out bites of salad?

Heat domes are not new. In fact, in 1911, a deadly heatwave hit the Northeastern United States. New York experienced temperatures reaching 100º F. The asphalt streets melted. Horses, the main form of transportation at the time, collapsed from heatstroke.

Of course, the poor suffered the most, as tenement buildings had little ventilation and became suffocating. The evenings barely cooled off, so sleeping inside became intolerable, and people fled to the city parks. In Massachusetts, nearly 5,000 people spent the nights in Boston Common. When ice—essential to preserving food—ran dangerously low, it was the economically disadvantaged that went without.

A black and white photo of numerous people lying on the grass in Battery Park, New York, on a hot day. Some are sleeping, while others appear to be resting or relaxing in the shade of various trees. Buildings and a few passersby can be seen in the background. — Battery Park on a hot day, Library of Congress

A sepia-toned, historic photograph shows a group of children and a few adults gathered around a large block of ice on the street. Some children are licking the ice. In the background, a grocery store window displays various items. The caption reads, "Licking blocks of ice on hot day. — Licking blocks of ice on a hot day, Library of Congress

Black and white photo of men giving a horse a shower bath on a city street. A sign reads "Gane's Free Shower Baths For Horses Only." Buckets and a hose are in use. Several people look on from the sidewalk. The scene is labeled "Hot Weather Charity, N.Y. — Horses at risk of heatstroke and exhaustion, Library of Congress

The heatwave of 1911 lasted 12 days and killed around 2,000 people.

According to research, heat waves now occur three times as often as they did in the 1960s, and climate change is making heat domes 150 times more likely because warming in the Arctic alters the jet stream.

So how should we respond? Should we sit down and celebrate the summer flavors of a chilled white bean caprese and a cucumber avocado salad on a day when the thermometer reaches triple digits? Should we mourn the loss of past climates and ecologies, or try to adapt and embrace the global weirding? How can we relish in a hot day despite what it might portend for the future? How should we be feeding ourselves today for a more equitable and livable future?

It’s raining heavily now, and has been for hours. The moisture is welcomed, of course, as is the cooler temps, but the intense delivery feels a bit disconcerting. I don’t remember monsoon season being like this when I was a kid. Usually the rain would just come down heavy for half an hour or so, and then clear away, the sky sparkling blue, the land refreshed, a glorious rainbow, or two. And these summer rains were consistent, appearing every afternoon.

Now the summer rain comes unpredictably, often violently, hanging around for hours and sometimes days at a time, then disappearing for weeks, like a bad lover. I wonder if New Mexico will become a humid hot tropical paradise in the future. I wonder what summer will be like 100 years from now? Hopefully, there will still be rainbows.

And we will all be sanguine babies, in a shady spot, eating salads.

A group of children is sitting and lying down on the sidewalk in front of a brick building, seeking shade. Most are looking towards the camera. Written text at the top of the image says "Hot Day - Babies in a Shady Spot." Another child and an adult stand in the background. — Babies in a shady spot, Library of Congress

You can find this week’s writing prompts below!

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Here are this week’s writing prompts.

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