Wadi Rum’s aroma was green but flat. As the sunlight warmed the sand and scrub, the air was occasionally punctuated by the scent of honey wafting from the white broom bushes. It was good — but it didn’t smell anything like the desert I call home.

At that moment, I longed for the smell of Palm Springs, how even the lightest drizzle marinates the air with the resinous, oily scent of creosote. It’s a muscular scent that binds itself to you, one that you don’t appreciate until it’s gone.

— Read more in The Scent of the Desert: Distinctive aromas allow you to better know — and remember — the qualities of this special place at Palm Springs Life.