Photo: Fir0002 By Allison Jones
IT’S FUNNY what fire and the threat of fire does. It’s funny in its silver linings. The time and space expansion is amazing. But more amazing is the ping pong table set up to alleviate boredom translates somehow into captivation and enchantment for our four-year-old. The pony achieves his life-long goal of being allowed to graze in the giant paddock with the cattle and the big horse. His dream scenario.
It’s funny who checks in on you. Old friends, new friends, running friends, forever friends and best friends from the other side of the world. They reach out, check in and send their love.
IT’S FUNNY what fire and the threat of fire does. It’s funny in its silver linings. The time and space expansion is amazing. But more amazing is the ping pong table set up to alleviate boredom translates somehow into captivation and enchantment for our four-year-old. The pony achieves his life-long goal of being allowed to graze in the giant paddock with the cattle and the big horse. His dream scenario.
It’s funny who checks in on you. Old friends, new friends, running friends, forever friends and best friends from the other side of the world. They reach out, check in and send their love.
It’s funny how stressed and agitated people become. Venting on social media like that will extinguish the fire.
It’s funny how group think and group ideas try and impose themselves over individual decisions. Ideas formed at the keyboard with no expertise or thought. Ideas that seem to involve someone else doing something else.
It’s funny I keep picking up my device to read the madness.
It’s funny how mad people become. Furious at emergency services and police who are just doing their jobs. Angry at policy changes that perhaps have never been made. It’s funny, all of this anger at anything and everything except the actual fire.
It’s funny how grateful and appreciative we all become for amazing volunteers. Sharing thoughts and prayers and donations. It’s funny who our volunteers are. Heroes made up of old people, young people and weirdly some VIPs who keep their volunteering very low key and anonymously fight the fire.
It’s funny how the waiting gets to you. Random jobs around the house and farm. Keeping busy but silently watching the fire front at every opportunity, even during sleep time.
It’s funny the comfort one takes in small things. Walking 500 metres up the empty road to Sunday night roast at the folks. Rituals are never more important.
It’s funny that the road closures mean no traffic. Days without a single car.
It’s funny that means the water bombers can be heard more easily. Every plane and chopper that drops water makes my heart a tiny bit lighter and more hopeful.
It’s funny watching the kids pack a bag each and seeing what they treasure. It’s funny my son didn’t think school clothes were a good thing to save.
It is funny, listening to my daughter counsel her Barbie dolls about leaving our home.
It’s funny how everything and nothing about fire is funny. Fire was food for thought. It was pause. It was reflection and perspective. We were lucky but our lesson remains. Our community is resilient, organised and connected. We need to make sure we play our part.
Allison Jones lives in Yinnar South, which was under threat from bush fire for several days last week.
It’s funny how group think and group ideas try and impose themselves over individual decisions. Ideas formed at the keyboard with no expertise or thought. Ideas that seem to involve someone else doing something else.
It’s funny I keep picking up my device to read the madness.
It’s funny how mad people become. Furious at emergency services and police who are just doing their jobs. Angry at policy changes that perhaps have never been made. It’s funny, all of this anger at anything and everything except the actual fire.
It’s funny how grateful and appreciative we all become for amazing volunteers. Sharing thoughts and prayers and donations. It’s funny who our volunteers are. Heroes made up of old people, young people and weirdly some VIPs who keep their volunteering very low key and anonymously fight the fire.
It’s funny how the waiting gets to you. Random jobs around the house and farm. Keeping busy but silently watching the fire front at every opportunity, even during sleep time.
It’s funny the comfort one takes in small things. Walking 500 metres up the empty road to Sunday night roast at the folks. Rituals are never more important.
It’s funny that the road closures mean no traffic. Days without a single car.
It’s funny that means the water bombers can be heard more easily. Every plane and chopper that drops water makes my heart a tiny bit lighter and more hopeful.
It’s funny watching the kids pack a bag each and seeing what they treasure. It’s funny my son didn’t think school clothes were a good thing to save.
It is funny, listening to my daughter counsel her Barbie dolls about leaving our home.
It’s funny how everything and nothing about fire is funny. Fire was food for thought. It was pause. It was reflection and perspective. We were lucky but our lesson remains. Our community is resilient, organised and connected. We need to make sure we play our part.
Allison Jones lives in Yinnar South, which was under threat from bush fire for several days last week.