While in Grampians, in the car, heading from one lookout to the other, we found this patch of wood that had been burning not that long ago. Probably somewhere around a month ago, when there were plenty fires up in that area. I forced dad to stop the car and wandered out over the black, burnt soil. THe subdued colour scheme in the pale golden afternoon light was absolutely magical, and I forced my dad to stand for some portraits. He wasn’t particularly excited about it, but accepted it, and found his way into the woods with me.
All I’ve really heard about bushfires is all negative. And yes, a lot about them is really bad. But in this patch of nature it felt less like a dead patch of wood, and more of a piece of the forest that was being re-born.