Fences, dirty dogs and the Bucky Pub

More kangaroos this morning sitting in the black (you'll need to click on the photo to enlarge it enough to see them), heads down busily finding tasty new shoots. The big male sitting off to the side a bit in the long grass, keeping watch. A couple of joeys were out of their pouches, sitting close to Mum and mimicking her movements. Then something alerted them and they hopped away down the line of ti tree and into the next paddock, not hampered by a fence in between anymore, the fence is flat on the ground and so is the gate.

There were lots of birds around today too, kookaburras staking their territory and magpies trying to get a go at the worms in the orchard before the currawongs could take over. I haven't heard the lyrebirds for a few days but we've heard them several times since the fires so are confidant there are still two families in the gully.

This afternoon we got back onto the fence line: more cutting, pulling, untangling then folding the wire that's too damaged to be reused and picking up a myriad of little bits of wire, remnants of where the wire was so damaged that it was really brittle and broke off as we pulled. Lots of sweat, lots of black on everything including me.



Then tonight we went down to the Bucky Pub - it's not often that I suggest that but I just wanted to sit in there. When the fires started the rumour that it had burnt down was one of the things that shocked us into accepting what was happening. Then to hear it was still there, that and the Igloo, was so good. The kitchen was the same, the chef still able to tell me what was gluten free, the garlic prawns (go light on the cream) still as delicious
Sitting there, looking up at all the burn on the mountain, we marvelled yet again that the bushfires didn't take more homes.

Driving back to Taggerty, the cathedral is just black and brown, blotches and streaks of black and brown intermingled with no green until the eye drops to the base of the mountain. The green is so soothing that my eyes seek it out all the time. The roadside is gradually being cleared now of a lot of the broken blackened trees, and the grass is shooting, so although it's not getting back to normal (the new normal will be different), it's beginning to look more livable again. All the west side of the Cathedral is so burnt, our house was surrounded by bush and at the edges of that bush were fires. The house next to the bush behind us is totally gone, yet we were spared. The fires were enormous and fickle, unpredictable and unstoppable in so many places.

There was a flare up a couple of days ago out the back of Taggerty. Just a small flare up but if unseen, unattended...

We're driving back to town over the Black Spur tomorrow morning early. Every summer as I drive through the Black Spur I say a prayer that it will be spared from the next bushfire. I often visualize rain falling as I travel through, trying to keep my imaginative mind off any suggestion of flames. Trees and tree ferns regenerate so I know it will grow again but wildlife suffers. It's been one of the questions in the back of my mind these last four weeks, how much damage did it sustain?

My vegie garden is looking good now with the rainfall last week. The asparagus are still miniscule but looking sprightly again and at last the chard and silver beet look as though they'll make it, although they're only about 10mm high! I'm blaming the currawongs, the invaders from up north, for the broccoli leaves strewn carelessly on the ground at the base of the plant. It seems like a piece of random fun as other plants aren't touched!

The crickets were out in force tonight, enjoying the evening and not fussed by Schnooks' antics, leaping on one patch of ground after another but never quite working out what was making the sound. They (the dogs that is) came fencing with us today and then she went for a swim to cool off. Her normal drying off routine is to scrub herself along the dirt, but it's much more fun in the ash isn't it?



Well, it's only 9pm but I think it's time I took the latest edition of Earth Garden to bed and let the stories and ideas in there lull me into that beautiful relaxed state of mind that comes just before a long peaceful sleep.

Remember to remember still that the people you see in the street have their own stories, maybe bushfire, maybe floods, maybe joy, maybe grief. Most people wear a mask of 'I'm ok' but just underneath that, sometimes very close to the surface, is something else. Tread sensitively.