The battle for Red Rock Canyon is lost. The national conservation area is still there, still breathtaking, still red—but it’s increasingly hemmed in by encroaching urban sprawl. It’s tempting to pin the blame on developer Jim Rhodes—who, owing to a protracted legal battle and some unforced errors by the Clark County Commission, now has the go-ahead to build 3,500 homes on the site of a former gypsum mine near Blue Diamond, which is just under nine miles away from Red Rock’s visitor center. But the melancholy truth is that we lost Red Rock several years ago, when nearby Bonnie Springs Ranch—seven miles down the road—was leveled to make way for a luxury gated housing development.

For 300 days of the year, the sun is shining down on the Mojave Desert. Our climate here in Southern Nevada makes us the ideal place to harness the sun’s power through solar energy projects. And while developers have seized that opportunity with big solar plants out in the desert (we counted at least 20 operating in Southern Nevada, with many more on the way), there’s still room for residential and commercial solar power in our urban environment.

The temperature was already over 100 degrees by lunchtime when Tuyet “Lisa” Phan hauled two cases of water bottles from her white Lexus and dropped them next to a faded blue cooler with “Free Water” written in black marker across the sides.

Desert summers are becoming more severe, and Las Vegas' urban planning isn't doing it any favors. The expansion of the valley means that the heat is not felt equally in all neighborhoods, especially impacting neighborhoods where more Latinos and African Americans live.

Desert summers are becoming more severe, and Las Vegas' urban planning isn't doing it any favors. The expansion of the valley means that the heat doesn't feel the same in every neighborhood.

Desert summers are getting more severe, and Las Vegas’ urban planning isn’t doing it any favors. Sprawl across the valley ensures that heat isn’t felt equally in every neighborhood.

Walking along the edge of a seasonally dry lakebed on the eastern outskirts of Mexico City, there is near perfect silence except for the occasional airplane that flies overhead.

Children of all ages are frolicking around a splash pad at Sunset Park chucking small water balloons at each other. Their parents are sitting beneath the shade of nearby trees. It’s a sweltering 110-degree day in Las Vegas — and dangerously hotter on the park’s many surfaces.