Today, as yesterday, it is raining. Sheets of rain fall from the dark sky. Snow falls in the mountains and in the surrounding countryside. In Melbourne, it is wet, dull and gloomy but the rain make everyone smile. It is the rain we need to fill our dams and reservoirs after three summers of drought. We pray that it will keep raining and raining. Gutters overflow and rivers and streams ride high ... traffic moves slowly, the rain jamming roads and freeways as cars travel far slower than usual ...

Can you remember your first taste of ice-cream?

ooh - what was that?

I'm not sure if I like it or not

I'll have another taste just to see

May be it's not so bad after all.

Note: Devon finished the cone and there's now no holding him back!

Melbourne from the Yarra River

Melbourne from the Rialto - Melbourne's highest building

Melbourne from the Bay

Sunset from the River Yarra towards the City

Sunset Over the bay

Walking up the steps - Federation square

We’ve finally moved into The Cottage. It was a really cold blustery day as we made our way up the Melba highway heading towards Mansfield. It seems that winter has finally arrived. By the time we reached Bonnie Doon the heavens opened and the rain came down in torrents. We had made good time and 2 hours 10 minutes later found ourselves at the estate agent in Mansfield collecting the key.

I have to admit that I felt really excited as we drove up the hill, crossed the narrow wooden bridge with torrents of water rushing beneath it, towards the cottage. As we turned into the Drive we could barely see the house due to the rain and mist but I was more than happy to jump out the car in the rain to swing the gate open at the bottom of the driveway to allow the car passage. I'm sure it will be the first of many a time when I have to jump out the car to open that gate!

On stepping into the house I knew I was home and it was such a wonderful feeling knowing that finally I was a (part time) country girl and that a dream had been realised. The house had been left spotless and even though I came armed with buckets and mops I found little use for them. We soon had the car unpacked and the groceries put away and managed to take Kippers for a short walk on the property. When suddenly the skies cleared and the sun appeared and a beautiful rainbow arched across the little storybook cottage below our property. A good omen indeed.


We awoke to a really misty/foggy Saturday morning. We couldn't see a thing, not even the bushes close to the house. As we sat and ate our breakfast we heard this distant thumping. Terry looked at me and I looked at him "Kangaroos" and before we knew it a mob of about 25 hopped passed our window and started to graze close to the house.

We were both enraptured. Our own mob of Kangas. We were soon pulling on our boots and out the door introducing ourselves. The Kangaroos weren't so fussed about us but one look at the dog and they were off. We pushed Kippers back into the house and followed them - some of them were huge big fellas - about 7 foot in height, others were mid sized carrying young ones in their pouches and a few were what I class - gangly teens - all feet, bones and clumsy looking. They were just as inquisitive about us as we were about them.

They wouldn't let us get too close but were happy for me to take some photos before hopping off to graze again.

The rest of the weekend went quite quickly and by Sunday we had the last of the single beds built and made up. Neighbours called in to introduce themselves and we learned from them that it was snowing in the mountains and that Mount Buller was experiencing blizzard conditions. We swapped stories, learned where everyone was from and made some new acquaintances. It was far colder at the cottage compared to Melbourne but not as cold as I have known it in winter in the UK but these are still early days and winter is not fully upon us.

On Monday the cloud had lifted and in the distance we could see snow topped Buller.

Only the top of the Paps could be seen as the Delatite Valley was shrouded by fog. I'm not sure how many times we walked/explored the property but every time we did we seemed to find something new and interesting. Our 200 year old tree has a massive trunk and I gave it a hug and spoke a few words to it. In fact, I found myself under its branches almost everyday and on the day of our departure I said goodbye and told it I would be coming back. Terry thinks I'm absolutely crazy but that tree is quite special as it was just a small sapling when very few white men walked this state/continent so it needs more that a little TLC!

With the wintery weather setting in, we saw a huge southern cold front blow across much of Victoria and southern New South Wales recently, dumping good amounts of snow on resorts across both states for the opening of the ski season. Blizzards raged over the mountains for most of the weekend and on Monday, when the weather clearedfrom our cottage in Mansfield, we could view the snow capped top of Mount Buller.

To stand and contemplate life with whispering, sweet music in the ears, with sea spray stinging the face watching the spindrifts of sand. To see the bright harsh sunlight reflect on the changing colour of sand, silvering towards the reaches where sky and horizon mist together. To be on an expanse of beach, with drifting, marching sand dunes, denuded of any trace of the present century with only footsteps to show man's presence. To see the gulls spread their wings, screaming on the draughts of wind and the sunlight glittering and dancing on the swirling, roaring water. To watch the surging waves against the deepening blue sky and listen to the constant roar and tumble of waves towards a wide unspoilt acreage of sand. A torrent of sound reverberating against the landscape. I am always awed at its power. Nature takes delight in nature.. It is the presence of all the elements working together, meeting and merging powerfully. It is to sense the world and its sensation of risk, of things poised on the brink where anything might happen and never be the same again. Nature working with nature. Light and air, sea and sound, forever changing, reshaping, moving constantly through time along the coastline.

Leaves crunched underfoot. Willy wag tails hopped from stone to stone seemingly dancing along beside me, with their tails forever dipping. Grey fantails flitted and snatched invisible mites from the air. Their nests are slender and delicate, made of spider web and bark and skewered into branches. Raven’s, glossy black, run along in front of me, watching my progress with a knowing look. Wattlebirds swoop and dive in the air above me chasing off newcomers from their territory. A grey butcherbird sits above me in a tree, singing. I stop to listen and in the distance I hear an answer, almost a duet.

A grey haze hovered over Melbourne's early today.
At Melbourne Airport passengers were delayed for up to three hours when heavy fog forced four early morning flights to be diverted to Sydney and Adelaide.

A Qantas and British Airways flight from Europe, due at 4.45am eventually landed at 8.06am, an Air Mauritius flight due at 5.50am arrived at 9.12am and passengers on flights from Singapore and Los Angeles were also delayed for more than an hour. The fog cleared by 6am 6am and visibility had improved considerably and the airport was able to start operating as usual.

The display of autumn colours with leaves of red, gold, russet, ochre and crimson is spectacular.

The soft greys and greens of the native eucalpts and coniferous trees balance the colours. Autumn is a tonic of chilly nights and morning fogs, with cool and sunny days, interspersed with bleak periods of dark clouds, chill winds and heavy rains.

On Sunday, we awoke to a dew-spangled mornings and a golden sheen of a day. It was one of those brilliant autumn days when the world gleamed like something new-made. The sky was pale blue, clean and bright. Our breath puffed great silver clouds in the cold air. Later in the day as the evening mist rose and the failing sunlight turned into dusk, a cracking fire kept away the night chill with its bright gold, glowing red embers. As the birds winged their way to their nests swooping and diving through the still dusk the sun touched the sea pooling like molten brass on the far horizon. The night breeze whispered through the gum leaves. I listened to the night sounds of the chirruping sparrows, thrushes and blackbirds and the scream of a departing cockatoo and the shifting of the leaves and the tick and creak of swaying branches as a possum rustled furtively in the gum leaves above my head. Today a dense grey fog has wrapped the land in a clotted mass as thick as wool, which never quite lifts. Later this morning it rains from pewter filled sky.

This morning we awoke to a dense grey fog which has wrapped the land in a clotted mass where even the trees in our garden appeared like ghosts in the mysterious sea of fog that surrounds the house. It seems to me that the fog encourages my imagination as I stare out the window and my mind creates stories around the ghostly shapes. There is nothing, but it presents something. Nothingness is not a vacuum, it is active.

The wonder of being somewhere and appreciating the beauty of nature – the spider web diamond jewelled – its texture, colour and shape – becalmed - what secrets does it hold? Slate grey puddles cover the surface of the land, reflecting the lowering weight of the fog above. There is no warm sun, no blue empty sky, only grey pressing down from above and a stone-grey earth below.

The quaint narrow-gauge train "Puffing Billy" winds its way daily through the beautiful forests of the Dandenong Ranges. The line was opened in 1900, closed by a landslide in 1954, and re-opened as a tourist railway in 1962.

The fabulous colour display in the streets and countryside around Melbourne in autumn, trees are now festooned with russet-reddish leaves glowing warmly in brief bursts of autumn sun. Coloured berries have replaced the flowers, red ones on ilex and cotoneaster, rose hips burned to orange and black and dark blue buttons on juniper trees. Bright blue skies, creating patters in the arched-over pathways. Sombre grey skies announce the coming of rain which makes all things to smell more strongly, thyme and mint in the herbal garden, sodden leaves decaying in gutters and fermenting apples rotting on the grass.

We fill barrows with raked up leaves as nature prepares for her winter repose, bidding farewell with a last splash of colour leaving behind a feast of fruits and nuts in fond remembrance and a hopeful adieu.

An Autumn sunrise over Melbourne

Now a clear blue autumn day

We travelled to Mansfield with the intention of doing some research on buying a property in the area as we are thinking of retiring to the area come our retirement in seven years. Little did we realise that we would fall in love with house on 8.5 acres and end up buying it!

Kookaburra Cottage

Even the estate agent thought we were a little mad "are you sure you don't need more time to think it over?" was one of his questions and the look of amazement on his face when he came back with the counter offer from the seller and we said "that's fine". I thought he thought we'd haggle for ages. But I knew immediately I walked onto the property and into the little country cottage (only two years old) that it was mine! It had a feeling of comfort and when I wandered down to the natural spring, the grass seemed to whisper to me that this was where I should be. Fanciful I know, but its true. The views are unbelievable! You can see Mount Buller,

View towards Mount Buller

Mount Stirling. the Strathbogie ranges as well as the Delatite valley and across to the Paps from the kitchen and living areas.

The view across the Delatite Valley

The land is fenced, mainly cleared - it has a few old trees on the property (it use to pasture cattle) and best of all it has its own spring fed dam. The property also sits on the edge of a state forest (5 mins walk from the house) so Terry and I plan to do quite a bit of bush walking in the winter months.

Another view of the Kookaburra Cottage

Until our retirement, we intend to use the cottage as a holiday home and will spend every other weekend in Mansfield. We agreed to a 90 day changeover and I'm going to need those 90 days (80 days left) as I have to buy the furniture to furnish the house (which will be quite exciting) and Terry has to buy a ride on mower/tractor.

Of course, you can imagine our son's are already planning their holidays! Geoff reckons he'll be ski-boarding this ski season (the house is only 40 mins from the ski slopes) and Matt's thinks it will be a great getaway for his little family. Obviously my waggling hips as I danced to the Cuban music whilst I cooked had the desired effect on Terry - must have managed to put something magical into the food!

We woke the other morning to a full moon sliding from the sky. It was a beautiful clear morning. Dew sparkled from the grass and dripped like diamonds on leaves.
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Later that day the sun slid from the sky in a fiery ball of red. It was almost as if the sky was aflame.

Autumn roses - a blaze of colour

Part of the garden after a rain shower.

All ready for a feed. I think he's saying "hurry up and get the top off the seed bottle! I'm hungry"

And the Magpie says "what about me ... don't forget me!"

Whilst the cockatoo disdainfully looks on

We awoke to a brilliant sunrise. The sky was ablaze with colour.

What was this portending for the day? By mid afternoon a huge duststorm blanketed much of the state, providing an almost eerie view from the office window of the building where I work. When the dust descended, the view shrunk back to only a kilometre or so. By the time we arrived home the sky remained covered and sun was just a white ball in the sky

This fellow is so tame he will not only take food from my hand but also allow me to stroke his feathers. I think he's saying "thank you for sharing your breakfast". I have an affinity with birds - even though they bombard me with gumnuts as I wander around the garden to attract my attention! They certainly are characters!

Mansfield lies two and a half hours from Melbourne and is a great place to recharge the batteries. The views in the High Country are breathtaking across forests, mountains and waterpoints. The scenery is magnificient with its rugged mountains, rolling snow plains, rushing rivers, gentle lakes and sweeping grasslands which makes for an everchanging backdrop and a wonderful place to visit.

We rented a small country cabin at Macs Cove at Lake Eildon which was set at the lake edge (which was dry) and amongst the gum trees.

Unfortunately, the vast body of water at Lake Eildon had shrunk due to the drought but we still looked out upon hills of trees and the swathe of mist and a Kookaburra who sat in the old gum tree.

During our stay we glimpsed an echidna wandering its way through the long grasses of the dired lake bed. He rolled himself into a prickly ball as I walked towards him. I knelt patiently beside him and waited until he finally poked out his nose and I was able to take a photograph

King Parrots visited the bird feeder on a daily basis and kept us much amused in the early morning and evenings with their constant chatter

Of course things aren’t always joyful in the garden. There's a rabbit who has appeared recently and he's systematically eating my plants, not whole plants of course, bits of them, a munch here, a munch there - munch, munch, munch - as if attending a finger buffet. Very cute he is too sitting there munching away. All bunny like and cuddly.

I spotted him through the kitchen window the other morning. He sat in the flower bed grinning inanely at me through a mouthful of Oriental Poppy, so I banged on the window in a most vigorous way. We can't be having this sort of behaviour in the garden, now can we?

He looked across at me, spat out the Oriental Poppy, then moved on to my prized Lupin (Russell Mixed), unfazed by the violent hammering on the kitchen window. He bit off the stem too - chewed the flowers to a pulp. Now I was fond of that Lupin, a fine upstanding perennial it was, and one that had given me many weeks of bright colours on dreary summer days. What a way to go? Having survived slug attacks, strong winds and occasional battering from the dogs, only to be scoffed by a 'ruddy' rabbit. I was enraged, hopping mad in fact, and so - in a 'hopping mad' sort of way - I continued with my frenzied banging on the glass.

He cocked his head to one side, however, unconcerned, more amused than anything else, quite clearly a rabbit without a care in the world. Then I let the dogs out. This should have done the trick, only it didn't, for the dogs were clearly in no mood to tangle with a visiting rabbit and ran off to bark at the dog next door! Useless, completely useless. So I rushed outside myself, charged straight at him in fact, 'no messing', at which point he took off sedately hopping in the direction of the shed to disappear into a hole dug under the corner. Now I was very tempted to find a great big rock to cover that hole but I felt sorry for the poor rabbit – I mean we are in a drought and well the poor things need to eat but I thought he would have got the message with me giving chase but it wasn't the end of it either, oh no, because he returns on a regular basis to haunt me and to taunt me.

Now - as you know - there's very little that a rabbit won't eat from your garden, for despite the fact that many leaflets and books have been written about the culinary preferences of rabbits (and rabbits for that matter) - what they will and will not eat - and some by eminent specialists in the field, they'll actually taste everything. It's simple really. Until you've tasted something, you don't know whether you like it or whether you don't, and each individual rabbit will have its own particular favourites (much like you or I) which is a factor often over-looked by the pest control experts. Terry doesn’t like cauliflower cheese, but I do. I enjoy 'dollops' of tomato sauce, but Terry doesn't. This holds true for a rabbit when it comes to plants. They don't like Buddleias, I discovered, and they don't like potato leaves either, but if enough rabbits take a single bite before making that decision then your plants and your vegetables are in deep trouble.

My rabbit (and thank goodness there's only one at the moment) has eaten Parsley (that was a surprise), Fennel (even more of a surprise), Mints, Lupins, Geums, Cerastiums, Pinks….. in fact the list is endless. But he hasn't touched the Fuchsias or the Hostas yet. Why not? Saving them for later, I suspect, by which time I shall hopefully plug up all the holes in the garden fence so that his friends don’t pay us a visit. My only dread is that such a laid-back rabbit without a care multiplies over time into more of the same. Now I must check through the window and see what he's up to.

Weeding is a reality – but it is satisfying when you get all of the intruders out and look at your tidy bed, with each plant in its intended place fulfilling its intended role before the little blighters return. I also love to tidy – to wander through the beds armed only with snips and pruning shears, inspecting each plant intimately, learning about it, snipping off the spent flowers and removing any wilting foliage. This is when I really enjoy plants as individuals, rather than as part of some huge composite picture, so it is a learning experience for me as well as a pleasure.

Many of my roses bloom all summer and so I snip them lavishly and dry the petals to use in potpourri – as well as any other blossoms or leaves that can contribute their fragrance to my indoor enjoyment. Sweet woodruff, for instance, smells like vanilla when it dries, even though it has no discernable fragrance when growing in the ground. And lemon balm – a dreadful pest in the garden, is a real treat in potpourri – or in cooking. So Summer is a time when my snips and I gather parts of the dinner – some garlic chives, a handful of nasturtium blossoms to toss in the salad, spikes of lavender to dry and slip between freshly laundered sheets and into the winter sweater drawers to help deter moths. It's time to enjoy the bounty – not to become enslaved. An essential part of the joy of gardening is love – so I love what I plant and the rest of the work becomes a joy. And that's how we need to keep it.

Sunday evening - the sun setting below the rain clouds

On Sunday we visited the local Berwick market. The market, which is run every Sunday, is full of junk stalls though we have found a few treasures in our browsing. This week however, we purchased a couple of maple trees as we plan to have the front of the house landscaped sometime this year. After organising delivery we purchased some ornamental grasses for our rear garden. Even though the dark clouds were threatening the rain held off and we managed to explore the market without getting wet.

We headed home to await delivery of the trees. After a coffee, we pottered in the garden, planting the grasses under the gum trees and a rosemary bush. I’ve not had much luck with rosemary in the herb garden so decided to plant this bush in another area of the garden. Eventually, the trees were delivered and we were free for the rest of the day. I suggested to my husband that we take the dogs for a walk. We set off down Casey drive and headed up the old coach road - quite an uphill walk and I could feel my muscles complaining in my legs. This is part of the road that use to run between Sydney and Melbourne in the 1800's. Only a few parts of the road still survive in dirt form and on this part of the road you can actually still see the ruts in the road from the coach wheels. On reaching the top of the road, we had a marvellous view across the bay and we watched a ship heading through the heads towards the open ocean. Even though the clouds still threatened rain, it was clear breezy day and you could see the coastline stretching for miles.

After following the road a little longer, we noticed that the dogs were tiring so we decided to head for back via the horse-riding track that runs at the rear of Casey Drive. We arrived at the diverging pathway, which leads down into Casey Drive, a right of way that runs between two properties, to find that someone had fenced it off. We managed to squeeze through a small opening and set off down the muddy path towards the road. We noticed that on one side of the path the fence has been removed. Obviously, the new owners of this property have decided to make the right of way part of their own land! Previously, we had noticed that someone had cut down a tree at the bottom of the pathway to hide or bar access to the pathway. My husband managed to pull the tree aside a little and we were able to gain access into Casey Drive. This is the second right of way leading from Casey Drive to the hills behind us that has been deliberately closed off by owners. We know there is another right of way near our home but have been unable to ascertain just where it is due to owners hiding or closing off the access point. It looks as if I will now have to ring the local council to complain and to find out why the pathway has been fenced off and to also ascertain exactly where the second right of way is! No doubt I’ll become popular with my neighbours!

Rain greeted us this morning after weeks of dry weather. The texture of the air, still muggy, is no longer dense, but is laden with the smell the of the damp earth. The thick grey clouds, that have rolled in over us overnight from the very edge of existence, teem rain. The trees,silhouetted against the sky, looming above all, rustle and drip. At the bird feeder cockatoos squabble and posture fighting for a chance at the feeding tray.

During the hot weather, when the temperature reached over 44C in our garden, we noticed that a possum, who had moved from his nearby nest mid afternoon, sat huddled in the low branches of a tree and was in dire heat distress. We sprinkled the possum lightly with water with the fine spray from the hose pipe and sprayed the leaves on the tree around him from which he drank. We checked on him regularly throughout the afternoon, spraying more water as needed. Around 5.00 pm another possum appeared in the tree and sat near him. In the early evening three possums appeared around the pool and drank from the pool water. The heat distressed possum in the tree gradually began to move about and later that evening, as the temperature dropped, disappeared high into the gum trees.
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Whilst watering the garden last night I felt something drop on my head. On looking up I espied Fred the cockatoo, a frequent visitor to our bird feeding trays above me in a tree. To attract my attention and to let me know the feeding trays were empty, he continually dropped gum nuts on my head whilst I watered the garden. Once I filled the bird feeding trays, he was happy and I was able to water the garden without being pelted with gum nuts from on high.

Twilight crept through the slack crutch of sky and earth ebbing and meeting in an ever creeping darkness. The day crept from the sky like a disappointed thief hiding behind pink tinged clouds until slowly and unexpectedly the sky flamed a deepening red between the gum trees

before slowly fading into darkness ...

Our Liliums have flowered as well as our gladioli

Days of burning hot weather continue. Melbourne remains smoke hazed. The fires still rage in North East Victoria and on the road to Rutherglen huge clouds of smoke appear in the distance.

At night the mountains are aglow.

Towns in the district remain at the mercy of these fires. Winds are expected to increase this afternoon when a change sweeps through Victoria. More than 400,000ha have been burned. The loss of wildlife is staggering with the pygmy possum, which is found in alpine and sub alpine regions being pushed close to extinction.

Since February, 1983 - the month of the Ash Wednesday bushfires - Melbourne has not had three 40-degree-plus days in a month.

Yesterday, the city fell just 1.6 degrees shy of breaking the 20-year weather record after the temperature reached 38.4 degrees, despite a forecast top of 40.

Melburnians awoke to a relatively cool and hazy morning, as north-easterly winds brought bushfire smoke into the city.

It was 20 degrees at 9am, 25 at 10am and 29 by 10.30am, leaving many wondering whether the meteorologists had got it right.

Even those at the weather bureau had started to question whether the expected top of 40 would be reached.

A sea breeze gave the city a reprieve late yesterday afternoon, but the weather bureau said it was temporary and the cool change would not arrive until 6am today, as forecast, with up to five millimetres of rain. "It's more than we've had for a long time," Mr Ryan said.

The weather bureau has forecast a top of 25 today, after an overnight low of 23. The temperature is expected to drop below 20 degrees by late afternoon. The bureau has also forecast extreme fire danger in the north central, northern country, north-east, alpine, west and south Gippsland and the East Gippsland districts. The CFA has declared a total fire ban for the north-eastern and eastern total fire ban districts.

3.15 pm and Melbourne has disappeared completely under the smoke haze. Thge ghostly shapes of huge office blocks have disappeared - visibility has been reduced to 3kms or so. The windowpanes reflect the heat and are now hot to touch. The wind has risen slightly. It is hot and getting hotter, the smell of smoke pervades the office and the air conditioning is fighting a loosing battle with the heat. Many cars are now on the road and traffic jams are beginning to build. As far as the eye can see, Toorak Road is just a line of creeping traffic. Are people escaping the smoke, or heading home for the long weekend?

We awoke to an enormous smokey red sun, rising from behind Casey Drive, half hidden by the smoke haze which has drifted over Melbourne from the fires in North East Victoria. Over the landscape, lies the smell of burning. The morning is cool and the breeze soft - the temperature is expected to climb into the high 30’s today (100F). We dress in light clothing. I choose a bright blue shirt over loose pants. Friday is a casual dress day in the office and on such a hot day it is good to drop the dull colours of corporate life.

The garden is alive with sound in the cool of the morning. The cackling laughter of kookaburras and the choralling of magpies echo around us. Cockatoos scream and squabble in the eucalypts above us, intermingled with the constant crowing of crows and small birds that fuss and chirp in the lower branches, their songs snatched messages on the breeze. The garden is full of subtle colours, dark greens, ecrus and browns. The grass has become withered and golden-dry and as you walk dust springs up from your steps. There is no distant shimmering glimpse of the bay and even the Dandenong Ranges have disappeared under the smoke haze. The sky is nothing but fudged grey in which we have become shuttered.

The temperature, at mid-day, has reached the low 30’s. I place the palm of my hand against the windowpane here in the office. It is warm, but not yet hot, to the touch. The sun’s rays burn through the smoke haze. As the lift door swishes open on the fifth floor the smell of burning pervades the lift well. Outside, the sheer brightness and dry heat strikes you before you notice the warm wind that rustles through the tops of the gum trees. The smell of burning seeps into hair and clothing. I sit a half-hour respite from the mundane of office life. It is a quiet today, it being a public holiday (Australia Day) on Monday – many people may have taken a long weekend or have remained at home due to the high fire risk. The roads, the office and even the telephones remain remarkably quiet. Weather conditions are expected to worsen during the afternoon, with the northerly wind expected to gain strength. The forecast for tomorrow and Sunday is even worse with temperatures reaching 40+C (110). There is nothing that anyone can do about it but wait and pray and prepare themselves for the days ahead.

Fires still burn in North East Victoria and around Canberra but the crisis has abated somewhat. Waterbombing continues in these areas. We have a couple of days respite before temperatures climb again into the high 30's and 40's and most of Victoria, NSW and Canberra will once again be on high alert and preparing for the worse.

Fires also broke out around Melbourne and threatened homes in the Lysterfield area and the coastal plain was quite hazy with smoke drifting from the fire. It is believed that the fire was deliberately started by a fire-bug!

Most of the fires in Australia are fought by volunteer CFA crews - our thanks go out to all these brave men and women who volunteer their time and who work under such dangerous and life threatening conditions.

The terrible fires in the north-east of Victoria still rage, the mountains are aglow, fires scattered and emerge over enormous areas and at night the red glow can be seen in the sky above. Parts of Canberra have been burnt out. The loss of lives - of people and of animals and loss of loved houses and gardens - shatters everyone. It is extremely fortunate that only four people have been killed. We see the fearful pictures on television and in the newspapers and read the stories of those who survived or escaped the fire storm. Streets wiped out completely and a communities homeless. The burnt houses and black hillsides are a burnt nightmare. Nothing but a fearful silence remains with drifting ash. The trees are black heaps of curled charcoal, those that have not been burnt to the ground are leafless and blackened. There is no sound in the burnt out areas - did the small birds get away, did they flee the nightmare scene? It will be days before the birds return. Around Canberra the hills are a devastation of burnt earth and rocks but when the rain comes the wattles will spring up, their seeds germinated by the fires and soon the eucalypts will put out fresh green leaves all up their trunks and in tufts along their stark boughs and the land will renew itself as people rebuild their lives.

Near our home in Narre Warren, paddocks are blackened and burnt. The lingering smell of smoke, and the scent of burnt gum trees remains in the air. This morning, the sun came up, through the smoke, in a huge orange ball. The northerly wind has started to blow and from the office window I watch it rip through the trees. The smoke remains flannel-thick outside the office and the smell of burning still permenates the air.

We awoke this morning to the smell of smoke. Within 20 minutes or so we could hardly see the end of the garden through the smoke haze. Troubled, we walk down the garden to greet neighbours and discuss the smoke. It is agreed that this must be smoke from the bushfires in the mountains or a fire nearby and there was no cause for alarm as yet.

After swapping telephone numbers, in case our neighbours need to call us in an emergency, we wake our son Geoffrey and tell him of the smoke and smell of burning and give him instructions to keep the animals within the house for the day. We run through the 'what ifs' with him in case of fire - he is well grounded and nods and mutters the priority list, 'animals, paintings, photographs, toby jugs, plates' in case he has to evacuate the house. We tell him that self and animials are more important - the list is just in case he has time. 'Call us immediately if there is a fire in the vincinity and we'll try and make our way home. Load the car beforehand, stay as long as you can to hose things down - don't take chances, if you're told to go, go.' We know if there is a fire we'll probably not be able to get through to the house and Geoff will be on his own. He grunts and nods and rolls over back into sleep. He's an old hand and training to be a Park Ranger so he knows the dangers.

The smoke haze covers Melbourne - visibility has been reduced to just three kilometers by smoke from fires bruing in Victoria's noth-east. It's eerie and silent. Hardly any wind at the moment. The temperature is crawling up. Everyone talks in the office about the bushfires that have destroyed 368 houses in our Capital City, Canberra. Fires are burning out of control in the mountains of north-east Victoria. The town of Mt Beauty is surrounded by fire and is threatened. A pine plantation, the cause of the smoke in Melbourne, burns in Wodonga.

I watch the Reuters screen closely, listening to the radio and pray that Victoria will get through this day without a major fire in the hills that surround Melbourne. My eyes constantly run, the smoke has found its way into the air conditioning system here at work - its going to be a tough day.

The wind was rising more quickly now and long ribbons of white were beginning to streak the water. Wave troughs were deepening rapidly, their sides steepening, their tops blown off and flattened by the wind. Gradually, but perceptibly the slap of the rigging began its lonely whine, climbing steadily to register upon the ear. Pitching madly, grotesquely under a serene blue sky above, caught in the tremendous seas below, I experience the terror of natures fury. Clinging to the wheel, I am surrounded by its roaring voice and impetuous ebb and clutched within its swaying, swelling motion. I battle the elements.

Early morning and the sea shore is alive with activity. Athletic sea gulls scream and jostle on the wind. The comforting coo of morning doves, busy mynahs, quick legged sandpipers, scuttling bowlegged ghost crabs.

Hearing, seeing, smelling the sea I feel the consistency of nature as the swell rises, crests and breaks against a rock. The sea is eternal, the sky eternal and the rocks and shore eternal. The renewal of life is eternal without beginning and end, forever changing. Slowly through the millinnium the water wears away at the shoreline, changing the topography and flora and fauna but nature like the universe is consistent. Forever reassuring it will always be there while we struggle to find ourselves in our consistency. And when we are gone, vanished, forgotten, the sea will continue to roll upon the shore incessently wearing away at the coastline.

The enervating heat came with the first glimmer of daylight. Stepping outside I feel the warmth of the air wash over my skin. The distant scorched hills and coastal plain shimmer hazily in the distance. A few blackbirds and thrushes scrabble in the damp bark scattering it in every direction. Magpies lazily stalk the lower garden as I top up the bird-baths and fill up the dog drinking bowls. The bird-feeding trays rock slightly in the increasing breeze and are without the usual hustle and bustle of visiting parrots - a sure sign of the day’s heat to come - the parrots remaining in the cool of the surrounding bushland. Driving into work the fields are noticeably yellow and parched and the water holes have become hard little ridges of grey clay.

At lunchtime, with bottled water in hand, I set off in the 42C heat for a short walk along the walking trail, which edges Cardinia creek. As soon as I step out of the office I squint in the brilliant light and feel the hot dusty wind brush across my body. Waves of heat radiate from the grey concrete steps and metal handrail, which is too hot to grasp, as I trot down the steps into the car park. As I walked across the tarmac I feel the heat exuding from the cars. The air is laden with the smell of dust, tar and dried gum leaves and the tarmac, sticky underfoot, oozes in places.

Walking along the track, the sun filters through the parched gum trees and their ever-falling dry leaves crackle under foot. Bark peels from their silvered trunks to hang in strips. Few people tread the path and the quietness is noticeable. There is nothing but myself and the relentless heat and dust and flies as I walk. I take numerous sips of water from my water bottle to wet my dry mouth. Sweat covers my brow and trickles down the sides of my face and under my arms. I feel the heat of the ground burning through the soles of my runners. I feel the harsh sun burning my skin when I loose the cover of shade. After fifteen minutes I head back to the office, cutting across an open space in full sun before walking around the edge of the park under the shade of gum trees. I stop occasionally, mentally mapping my route to avoid the sun through the gloom of trees.

At the end of my walk, I sit in the shade under a huge old oak tree, gaining respite from the relentless burning rays before once again crossing the shadeless car park and climbing the 80 odd steps to the office. Leaves stir restlessly above me as small birds flitter and twitter between gnarled branches. Other than the wind and the drone of traffic from the freeway, quietness abounds. I can feel the warmth of the ground seeping into my body and it would be easy to drift into somnolence. Taking a few warm swigs from my depleted drink bottle I stand, brushing the dust from my clothing and set off again in the relentless heat. As I walk across the shimmering car park towards the mountain of steps, a tune plays in my mind “only mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the mid-day sun” and I smile inwardly at the truth of the words.

Hot, sweaty and red of face, after climbing the steps, the welcome shade of the building provides relief. The air feels cool as I step into the office gym and the change room quiet as few staff exercise today. After a drink of ice cold water I step under a cool shower to wash the dust and grime from my face and body. I feel refreshed though my face still glows from the sun. After a climb of another 40 odd steps from the basement gym to the level 1 lift well the refreshing coolness dissipates as the outside heat pervades the walls of the office.

By the end of the day the promised storms have not come and there is no coolness anywhere though I can see a long, dark line of clouds building up over the bay. At home, relief can only be found under a lukewarm shower. My make-up and creams had become soft, warm and runny. Even as I dress, my body once again feels clammy. The heat of the day has penetrated into the far corners of the house and it is airless and even though I open windows and doors, the air remains still. As the sun goes down, seemingly dripping blood in a red ball of fire, the night drops thick and airless over the land. The promised changed still has not eventuated as I slump into bed, to lie under the top sheet, with the whirl of the fan above cooling my body. During the night, waking me, the rain falls in sheets and I listen to it pounding on the roof and streaming in torrents from the gutters before crawling under the quilt for warmth and falling once again into sleep.

In the morning the land had been washed clean and the air is light and fresh. A fresh breeze blows from the south reviving my spirits and energy.