I want to talk about Australia. This vast country that I am writing a book about. Subtly but surely incorporating the climate and its inhabitants into a story about life in Melbourne. There’s a chapter dedicated to the previous bush fires in Victoria. I researched in depth half a year ago and not many first-person accounts occurred.
Unfortunately my friends can recount the current devastation as it goes on. You may feel far removed from what is happening, especially if you’ve never gone to that side of the world (our world, we all inhabit the same space). I want to paint a quick picture of my experience of the land, the animals and the trees, each a reason for why I’m spending hours writing a story located in Australia.
Bush fires happen, they are a part of life in Australia. There’s bush fire season. Of course it is horrible in this current state of climate, worse than all the previous years, already created a torrent of damage only in the first few weeks of the seasons. There are many more weeks to go.
My first experience of the trees, the varied dried bush, the parts that shone in the sun, sweat dripping off gigantic leaves, the same way it dripped off of my forehead as I ascended the 1000 steps in the Dandenong Ranges (mountain ranges in Victoria). Currently the ranges aren’t effected by the fires and that fills my heart. Here’s a short story on when I first experienced life after destruction.
As charred and as blackened trees can become in Australia, there’s the magic of life. I’ve been taken to many clearings in Victoria where there were fires that ruined entire communities, and what I noticed were the beautiful and bright green stems of life growing from what looked like a dead and beaten trunk of an old grandad tree.
These trees have ages that span centuries. Their wooden exterior may succumb to the roaring orange flames but they still stand. And if they’ve given up on being upright, you’ll surely find a tree trunk on its side, being caressed by another plant, the tree and mud combining into one. Australia’s rainforests showed me the saplings growing from what resembled charcoal. Trees hold onto memory. You can trace back its roots, find a proximity of age. Yet the trees don’t hold onto the old. Some of the bark will eventually chip off, revealing a raw creamy white interior and from this interior the new form of life will grow. The trees will never stop trying to give us life. The Australian bush is by far one of the strongest and most persevering I’ve ever experienced.
If you haven’t already, please donate to the bushfire appeal and start becoming more active with your footprint in this world. I’m not perfect, I get on planes at the drop of a hat but I aim to continue being mindful and reactive with my actions.
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