This morning I got up early to water the garden ahead of a forecast 44C degree (111F) day. A blackbird flew down right in front of me, within arm’s reach, and settled deep inside one of my standard roses. The bush is so covered with red blooms right now, like the Queen of Hearts’ roses in Alice in Wonderland, that the bird completely disappeared. I had to stand on my tip-toes and peer over the top leaves to discover she had made a nest in the middle of the rose bush. 

I know blackbirds are supposed to be pests but I live in the city, and just about any bird in the garden feels like a gift, an endorsement from nature. I’ve been waking up to the blackbird’s song every morning of late, a sweet, melodic ode to the dawn. 

Fires are raging out of control here in Australia, and my parents are facing their second night of evacuation with even worse conditions anticipated for the weekend. This is not new for them: all my life we lived in bushfire prone areas and a ‘bushfire bag’ packed beside the front door was a daily sight during summer. My mother wrote about her childhood experience of bushfires in the mountains on my blog a few years ago. 

But by now we all know these fires - and severe weather events everywhere - are not part of the ordinary cycle of nature. Australia is a vast land famous for extreme weather but scientists say our current drought is the worst in 800 years. The suffering that is causing in the affected areas (most of eastern Australia) is compounded by record high temperatures, creating dust storms in crop and grazing areas, and bushfires in forested areas. 

The fire brigade came to visit my parents at their house two days ago, and told them the fire closest to them was simply too big and too ferocious to control. Nothing but a heavy downpour would stop it, but a heavy downpour was not on the forecast: the weather there was hot and windy, reaching 47 (116F) in a neighbouring town.

Today when I picked up the children from school, the sky was brown instead of blue. Waiting in the shade of a tree while I tried to cool the car enough for them to sit inside it without burning their bare legs on the seats, they asked me, “Is this what global warming will feel like?” I said, “This is what global warming does feel like.” 

I have been remembering a little TV show the kids used to watch, called “Ben and Holly’s Little Kingdom.” In a double episode, visiting aliens asked the elves and fairies to come and save their planet. It used to be paradise, the aliens told them, but now it was all sand. The whole planet was desert when the elves and fairies arrived, but they used magic to bring the rain and soon, it transformed back into a beautiful Garden of Eden. Just as everyone was rejoicing, the head alien said, “Fire ‘em up boys!” (or something to that effect) and factories rose from under the ground and began belching smoke into the air. All the new plants began to wilt. 

I don’t know. I mean, the kids get it. 

I filled some bowls with water and the children helped me place them in strategic places around the garden so the little blackbird could cool off during the hot day to come. 

Scout said, “You really love nature don’t you Mum. Like me.”