There’s fire; so goes the old adage.
For the past two mornings I’ve awoken to a smoke filled sky. The sun desperately trying to shine through casting a ghostly glow through the haze.
The smell of the eucalyptus hangs in the air. Yet there is no sign of the fire. For the nearest bushfire is some 80 kms, and maybe more, to the west: the smoke and the smells that travel with it are being borne along on the strong high westerlies yet drifting ever so slowly over the coast across the Tasman Sea to New Zealand some 4000 kilometres away. Yes it will probably reach that far!
Soon tired, exhausted men and women; young and old will get some rest and all things will get back to normal. But not for some, the many who have lost everything, their homes and prized possessions will pick up the pieces and start all over, again and wait. For the fires will not go away.