Where to begin?
Oh goodness, where to begin? Actually, that is the perfect place to start because "where to begin?" is the phrase most repeated in our home right now. Where on earth do we begin?
On 17 February, a bushfire hit Widgetopia. It was dreadfully quick and thorough. It was utterly devastating.
Thanks to the incredible bravery of the women and men of the Rural Fire Service - people who travelled hundreds of kilometres to help save the homes of total strangers - our house and shed were saved. How that was possible I cannot even begin to answer. The roof of our house caught alight, the pylons of the verandah were smouldering, the walls of the shed were singed and yet, here I sit having a cup of tea at my kitchen bench. Bizarre.
We lost a lot. All 20 acres were alight, much of our garden was destroyed, our beautiful cabin is no more (a dear friend described the photo of it below as a "puddle of building", and that seems most sadly descriptive). Infrastructure we need to live here - our water tanks, plumbing, septic system - were all destroyed. But, BUT, we have our home! So many of our neighbours lost absolutely everything and were not as fortunate as us. Twelve families on our street were rendered homeless, possessionless, in one harrowing afternoon. It beggars belief.
So, where to begin? We honestly didn't really know for the first month or so. We started to repair the essentials in the first few days after we were allowed to reenter the property. We are dealing with our insurance company and too many subcontractors to count. We are all set to start rebuilding our beloved cabin. And whilst many may not see it as a priority in the aftermath of a bushfire, we have begun in earnest to rebuild our gardens. Starting with the one corner of the house that sustained no damage beyond heat stress, we started tidying, mulching, replanting. We have spread 50kg of grass seed atop the charcoal that was our lawns, and our terraces are looking almost artificially green and lush as a result. Actually, things are looking rather beautiful in a perverse way. Like an autumn that arrived much too early and thoroughly.
Before I show the newest of our "before" photos (because of course we fully intend to have more beautiful "after" photos again soon), I should say here that we have ZERO regrets about putting 6 years of tireless work in to our gardens only to have it almost totally destroyed in minutes. We spent every evening after work and all our weekends before we had our babies, and then every "spare" moment with them (often with a baby strapped to my chest), in our gardens and on our trails: building, planting, slowly coaxing our property to the stage it was a few months ago. It has been an intense labour of love. The fire investigators spent some time around our house taking photos and data for future teaching, because by rights our house should not have survived. Yes, it was water bombed by aircraft multiple times, but given the speed, ferocity and direction of the fire, our house could easily have been expected to be destroyed. Certainly there is a HUGE element of luck to account for this outcome (just look at the images of the perfectly prepared houses in our street that are no more), but the landscaping and gardens seem to have played an enormous roll in the survival of our home. I might write a bit more about this one day and I have written previously about the benefits of lawn in bushfire protection, but for now I will simply say - no regrets. And we will re-plan and replant, to grow our beautiful, soul-filled and soul-fulfilling garden once again... because:
(In case you are new to The Tree Diaries, the most recent photos of our garden before the bushfire can be found here).