On Saturday night we went to a wedding in the Yarra Valley, at a vineyard called Stones. The bus-driver who drove our group from our accommodation said it was 47.5 degrees outside. It was windy. The kind of HOT, horizontal wind that dries your eyes and makes you grateful for shelter. The kind of wind that you KNOW is terrifying ideal for a fire.
The sky was awesomely beautiful. Orange, and heavy and the light cast was unreal and staggering. The sun was red. A bad sign. You know when the sun is red there is a powerful fire going on.
Terrible, terrible fires.
The service was lovely. Powerful sentiments. A lot of love in the room, and the sweeping crescendo of my husband’s operatic voice entertaining us as the formal signings were completed.
And then we returned to the nearby dairy for drinks and watching with unease as ribbons of flames swept by on the hills below and emergency vehicles kept an eye on the fires snaking their way through the dry, dry grass towards the vineyards.
Punt Rd Vineyard – next door was wiped out. They lost everything. All the roads to us were closed off, we were informed. Nobody was going anywhere even if they wanted to. So we stayed, while 200 metres away an inferno blazed.
The fires continued through the night, and we were told that our bus-driver had lost his home in the fires at Coldstream. There were reports of power outages and B&B’s where some guests were staying having gone up in flames. But we were all safe.
All we could do was watch the distance and see the hills glowing.
Our return bus was police-escorted, and there was a hush in the bus as we drove in the night seeing burning embers lighting up the landscape. And sobering as we drew into the car park of the RACV club – which had huge expanses of concrete (making it safe I suppose), to see evacuees, with pets and birdcages, cars packed with belongings, camped out and waiting.
Then we turned on the news and watched with horror as the full story was revealed, and is still being revealed days later. Today’s tally is 108 dead. Countless homes lost. Lives shattered. Dreams ripped.
Stories of families huddled in dams watching their houses go up while flames rushed around them.
Stories of people, who left it too late to flee – their cars engulfed as they fled. No hope.
Stories of people who have tried to contact loved ones. Still not knowing if they are displaced or lost. And the knowledge that some of this was deliberately lit, that makes it all the more senseless and horrific.
It is still going on. fires are still blazing, and there are pockets where people are being advised to stay and fight for their homes. Certainly there are areas where fleeing is not an option, and it is more dangerous to be on a road than in a properly prepared house. If only your house is properly prepared. Our prayers and thoughts are with you.
There are some things we can do. Donate money. Donate blood. Listen to those who have been affected. Open your house if you can.
And be kind.
Be kind to the shop assistant who is rude to you – you don’t know what is going on in her heart. Back off when someone cuts you off in traffic – you will never know why they did that. Smile at a stranger in the street. You may change their entire week. Be kind to yourself. Those of us who are compassionate may be affected by this for some time in ways that we are unaware of. Absorbing the grief of others is not constructive. It is a far better course of action to find a way you can directly help someone to get on with building afresh.
And amongst the ashes there will be new life. I hope you are safe.
grim. terribly grim.
glad you are safe.
glad you can encourage.
Oh wow Michelle, I never knew you were near the fires. I’m glad you and your family are safe.
Not usually up that way Jodie – only for the night. I just can’t imagine what those who live there are feeling today.
Scary stuff! So glad you’re both ok and made it back to safe old Elsternwick.
Glad you guys all got out alright! How terrible – it must have been a very surreal night!
I know Michelle has one already, but if anyone here is interested, I’ve just listed my one remaining Phoenix lithograph on eBay to try and raise some donation money for the Red Cross Bushfire Appeal — http://is.gd/iU50
How chilling to be so close … those photos really make you realise how close to home all this is. So glad you are OK.
So glad you’re all home safe again; there’s nothing else I can really say tonight – and that’s unusual for me 😉
gosh it’s so surreal. and so strange you were so close to such destruction and that you’re ok. from over here in the freezing cold and the snow it’s so hard to imagine. we’ve had such extremes at all sides of the planet recently. not that i’m remotely comparing this to that at all, but i wonder whether it’s all connected. well it must be. everything’s connected.
So glad you were all safe- it’s hard to imagine what you were all going through out there that day.