As early as November 2008, Country Fire Authority Chief Russell Rees spoke of the worrying fire season ahead. He warned Victorians to start preparing. 

Before Summer and throughout it, all of us who live in high fire-risk areas have a responsibility to ensure that our properties are free of fire hazards. Clearing gutters, removing fallen branches, raking up dead leaves, sweeping decks and paths are just a few measures we can take. But what about all those trees? 

In the short term, we can clear away any fallen debris under them upon which a fire can feed. In the longer term, perhaps councils in fire-prone areas need to relax their policies on tree removal around homes. Perhaps, too, each council could deploy fire-risk assessment officers to check on properties in fire-prone residential areas. Risk-reduction measures could then be suggested to land-holders.

I’ve visited houses located deep in dense bush where the inhabitants do little to alter their natural bushland settings. But what of their neighbours?

Surely, we owe it to each other to do as much as we can to clear around our homes before the fire season starts. With a few simple clean-up tasks, we might save not just our own property, but also that of our neighbour’s. 

While I’ve been fastidious in clearing the area immediately around the house, I confess that I’m guilty of neglecting the bushland area of our block. With two large fallen trees down there, and associated debris, the fuel load is now far too high. There’s also too much undergrowth.

But our block of land is between two properties whose owners live in Melbourne and who rarely visit. It seemed pointless to make a huge effort on this block when those on either side carry a high fuel load. Despite that, I’m now determined that during the cooler months I’ll reduce the amount of undergrowth and fallen debris on this parcel of land. Then, if fire sweeps our way, I’ll know I’ve done all I can.

Before we moved here, I thought I had a pretty good idea of how to prepare for fire. For the first few years I conscientiously raked and cleared before Summer. But because there’d been no serious fires in the area since our re-location here, I slipped into that selfish ‘relaxed and comfortable‘ state of mind, so lauded by our previous leader. Complacency like that often ends in a brutal awakening.

If you’ve been following our progress here, you’ll recall the fire that screamed the message: there’s a price for living in paradise.