My family had recently returned from a holiday
north, spear fishing. We’d spent the day trying
to organise a large Blue Kingfish to be mounted
and stuffed. It had been a dry summer and on
this particular day the winds blowing upwards
of 100 kilometers per hour.
On the way home fires
had been reported near where we lived, some
thirty kilometers from Melbourne. Approaching
home, we were stopped at a police roadblock, then
let through. It was thought the fire was under
control.
Then the wind changed
The fire roared up one side of our street and
the back of our property. Our neighbours left.
We stayed. While my Dad went off with the local
CFA to fight fires, Mum filled the gutters while
my brother and I sat in a bath tub munching on
sandwiches.
The fires missed the line of houses up our street.
The town hall burned down. The Anglican church lost
it’s steeple. A house across the valley burned down.
The train bridges burned to the ground. The fire
burned bush and houses in Wattle Glen, Diamond Creek,
Eltham,Research and Warrandyte.
Welcome to my place,lots of trees and open space; It
gets hot in summer and every once in a while, becomes
a dangerous and risky place to be.next