TheBanyanTree: 2020: That's a wrap!

[Robin Tennant-Wood]

This time last year I was preparing to evacuate. The bushfires that had
been raging out of control for over a month to the north, south and east of
my place, suddenly found a new direction on the back of 40-degree*
temperatures and a wind straight out of the dragon's mouth. My neighbours
and I convened hastily and decided that, with only one road still open and
fire threatening that one, it was time to go.

Seven cats, three dogs and me in the car. Not a lot of room for much else,
but I'd already stashed my most valuable possessions - art mostly, a few
family heirlooms and my favourite books - in people's garages and back
rooms in town in anticipation that an evacuation was inevitable.

I phoned a friend in town who'd already said that I was to go straight to
her place when and if it became necessary. She was at work but her husband
was home on holidays. After I'd arrived and we'd installed the animals in
their new accommodation Dave said to me, did you get everything out?

I had to leave the Alfa, I said. Due to the fact that I can only drive one
car at a time, and ten animals won't fit in my beloved Alfa Romeo soft-top
sports car, I'd had to leave it at home.

Bugger that, said Dave, c'mon, we'll go get it.

We drove back to my place through smoke that, in some places, reduced
visibility to 20 or 30 metres. Usually a 30 minute drive, it took closer to
an hour. This was the day everything went pear-shaped. It was the day three
whole towns on the coast were wiped out by fire. The day the entire
population of one small coastal town took refuge on a jetty and had to be
evacuated by sea. The smoke, I'll never forget the smoke. We got to my
place and Dave, an ex-firie, checked to make sure the gutters were clear
and then shifted stuff off the verandahs that might be traps for embers. I
drove the Alfa back to town with Dave following.

That was the first of three evacuations over the next month. The rain
finally arrived in the second week of February, by which time the fire had
reached the top of the ridgeline on both sides of the valley where I lived.
We dodged the proverbial bullet ...

Today I'm sitting in my new living room in a small cottage in town
listening to a koel somewhere close and watching some kids practising
cricket on the sportsground over the road. It's only 17 degrees outside and
I find it difficult to remember what that 40-degree day felt like twelve
months ago (and that wasn't the hottest day we had last summer!). The
property out of town has been sold and my animals (minus one of the cats)
are all settled in their new yard.

Confronted with the reality of living alone in the bush I opted to
reconnect with the tribe. It's a nice little town. I edit the local
newspaper, play golf in my spare time and the town is small enough for me
to walk everywhere. I miss the view of the mountains and the roos and
wombats in the yard, but there's a family of magpies that visits daily and,
on balance, the advantages of being in town far outweigh what I miss.

So far our little town has remained COVID-free but people are taking the
risks seriously. The cooler and wetter summer has kept the threat of
bushfires away, but I'm not overly optimistic that COVID is somehow going
to disappear and 2021 will be all rosy and bright. Vaccine or no vaccine,
this virus is with us for a while, I fear. That said, I wish you all the
very best of New Years. Take care, be with who you love, and wear the
damned masks.

* all temperatures are in Celsius, for you American types who might be
wondering why 40 degrees was problematic. That's 104 in F.

Happy 2021 ... Robin