Fire
Smoke clouds the sky in my neighborhood, again, but we've received no evacuation notice. A frightful combination of gale-force winds and Melbourne's hottest day on record: (46 degrees) has bred blazing bushfires across central Victoria, where I now live.
In the next few hours the encroaching cold front will bring not only a nearly 30-degree drop in temperature, but also a change in wind direction, which only complicates the spreading danger.
The TV remains on for Channel 7 news updates. Weather maps relay dark-blue zones that would usually mean rain. But instead of relief, the radar is detecting patches of thick smoke. My powerless observation reminds me of tracking tornadoes in the central U.S. and typhoons in Japan. This time I'm monitoring the raging fires that leap several kilometers and multiple in neighboring suburbs.
Although my household appears to be in no immediate danger, I've learned a bit about fire-readiness in the last half hour. I'm hopeful I won't actually have to fill the gutters with water, douse the exterior brick walls or get in the bath tub and cover up with a wool blanket. I really doubt it will come to that. I doubt I'll ever get the evacuation invitation: flee now or stay and fight.
In the nearby hills, beyond the fire trucks' reach, homeowners must defend their property alone, or only with the help of neighbors. On fire-ban days, such as today, some stay home, to be ready in case a spark ignites.
These are the sorts of life experiences and lessons I didn't expect: gaining a better grasp of instant loss, of scorching heat, of flames mercilessly consuming hillsides, houses and ranches.
But I realize that we are not alone in these extremes. The crackly weather prompts the never-distant concern of global warming. News of flooding in northern Queensland and crippling winters in the U.K. and U.S. only deepen the thought.
Perhaps you are in a mild climate as you receive this note. I hope so, but I also know that many of you sent me here with questions about climate change. And, because I am living in a virtual petri-dish of land under an ozone hole, I cannot avoid the topic. I've kept waiting to gain answers so I could offer an explanation. I've only ended up with more questions. But I wanted you to know I've not forgotten. With days like these, how could I?
In the next few hours the encroaching cold front will bring not only a nearly 30-degree drop in temperature, but also a change in wind direction, which only complicates the spreading danger.
The TV remains on for Channel 7 news updates. Weather maps relay dark-blue zones that would usually mean rain. But instead of relief, the radar is detecting patches of thick smoke. My powerless observation reminds me of tracking tornadoes in the central U.S. and typhoons in Japan. This time I'm monitoring the raging fires that leap several kilometers and multiple in neighboring suburbs.
Although my household appears to be in no immediate danger, I've learned a bit about fire-readiness in the last half hour. I'm hopeful I won't actually have to fill the gutters with water, douse the exterior brick walls or get in the bath tub and cover up with a wool blanket. I really doubt it will come to that. I doubt I'll ever get the evacuation invitation: flee now or stay and fight.
In the nearby hills, beyond the fire trucks' reach, homeowners must defend their property alone, or only with the help of neighbors. On fire-ban days, such as today, some stay home, to be ready in case a spark ignites.
These are the sorts of life experiences and lessons I didn't expect: gaining a better grasp of instant loss, of scorching heat, of flames mercilessly consuming hillsides, houses and ranches.
But I realize that we are not alone in these extremes. The crackly weather prompts the never-distant concern of global warming. News of flooding in northern Queensland and crippling winters in the U.K. and U.S. only deepen the thought.
Perhaps you are in a mild climate as you receive this note. I hope so, but I also know that many of you sent me here with questions about climate change. And, because I am living in a virtual petri-dish of land under an ozone hole, I cannot avoid the topic. I've kept waiting to gain answers so I could offer an explanation. I've only ended up with more questions. But I wanted you to know I've not forgotten. With days like these, how could I?
posted by Catherine's Blog at 2:36 AM
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