This morning, I inhaled the scent of summer, even though we’re barely into spring and our recent temperatures have been rib-shivering winter-cold. As I left our house, and turned towards the bush with our two eager sniffing dogs, Nora and Quinn, I smelt smoke. The RSF firefighters are hazard-reduction burning in our village, reducing the fuel load in preparation for the upcoming bushfire season.
For the last few summers, we haven’t had to worry about fires. The bush that surrounds our home was thoroughly burnt during the summer of 2019/2020. There wasn’t much left when the long-burning fires were finally brought under control. Blackened tree trunks, topped by dead leaves, stood in a sea of ash. There were no signs of life apart from a lizard who’d sheltered inside a clay pipe in the park.
I suspect this summer is going to be different. The bush, taking advantage of a few rainy years, has regenerated: leafy tree branches are once again spreading their shade over a lush flower-studded undergrowth. We’re anticipating a hot dry season. Once again, we’ll be checking our phones as we track fires, hoping one won’t suddenly spring up in our local bush, the flames racing towards our home exposed in the red-bushfire-danger zone.
When I returned home after my early morning bush walk, I checked my phone and discovered a fire notification: a fire truck in our village, only a few hundred metres away, was burning out of control.
“We can’t afford to lose a fire truck, especially at this time of year,” I said to my daughters. “We need every vehicle we have.”
There are other things we need: woollen fire protection blankets, hard hats, gloves, boots, and plugs to block our down pipes so we can fill the house gutters with water if a fire approaches.
During the last bushfire, we were unable to buy blankets. Demand was high. The hardware store’s shelves were bare. But this year, we’ll be prepared. This morning, I ordered some blankets online. This summer, if we can’t evacuate our village before a fire arrives, we can shelter under them as the flames pass over our house. Or we’ll be able to use them if a fire tries to devour our car on our way to town. Or we can use them to sleep under at an evacuation centre if we get cut off from home. Or they can sit on a shelf, clean and fresh, if we don’t experience a fire. That would be okay. I’d like to own a pile of unused fire-protection blankets.
I popped this morning’s washing in the dryer instead of hanging it outside on the line. “We don’t want our clean clothes smelling of smoke,” I explained. “Do you remember how we dried our clothes outside during the last fires, despite the thick smoke?” Using the dryer would only have delayed the moment when everything acquired the scent of summer. Stepping outside, even opening a window, was enough to make our clothes, our hair, everything smell smoky.
Today is cloudy, a bit smoky but not hot and windy. There’s little danger of a fire consuming our bush. But the bushfire season is approaching. It’s time to prepare.
