I was going to write how nice it is that it isn't hot anymore. How many bits and pieces I got done today. How the rain falling this morning was so peaceful. How the sky yesterday was a weird metallic grey. How I shut the shop early in the afternoon. How I don't mind the heat when it is dry not humid.
But really how could I write about my small world when people are dying and towns are razed to the ground?
I am protected in my inner city life, I can smell the smoke, see blushed sunsets fired by burning trees but my heart is in my throat when I think of those people on the outskirts watching their lives burn. I have friends at Stanley and up Yarra Glen way and out to the west and I hope all are safe and well.
The heat yesterday was remarkable, it felt as if the whole world would just spontaneously combust. I've been in the country, in National Parks, when the wind has spun to the north and the rising temperature makes you feel as if the eucalyptus oil oozing from the leaves would ignite, explode, and I suppose this is essentially what happened yesterday. How could firebugs even contemplate setting anything alight?
I dream of green. I long for soaking rain. We were once the 'Garden State' but no more- more likely the 'Bone Dry State' or the 'Charred State' I think.
Nature is resilient. People are resilient. All shall be well.