Spirit and sap rise

On Saturday, I went for a walk through the incinerated remains of what was, a few months ago, a verdant and dense Blue Mountains National Park.  The Gospers Mountain mega fire whirled through hundreds upon hundreds of hectares and now, instead of being surrounded by thick walls of tree ferns, indigofera and banksia, with great stands of majestic blue gum and angophora for canopy, I walked through a blackened land of burnt tree trunks – towering, weedy and fallen - and no understory, unusually light with little overhead canopy.   

There were two glorious aspects to Saturday morning’s walk, one was that I could see for miles!  Without the thick vegetation, I was able to see the shape of the land, the folds and layers of the rocks, cliffs and canyons, the hanging swamps and strange formations.  Yes, it was arresting, as if looking at something that should not be seen, naked and secret.  But it was also majestic and mesmerizing, fascinating and left me in awe of its complexity and detail.  It made me reflect on what else lies hidden in life – of beauty and detail – until some cataclysmic event unveils it.  Perhaps I should look more closely and patiently to understand better without the cataclysmic event.

This opportunity to see the great mountains unclothed also felt fleeting because the rains have come and brought water back to the land and brought with it the second magical aspect of my walk on Saturday - the land is bursting with life!  Through the most blackened and barren tree stumps are pushing frilly, frothing pom poms of new, lime green, pink, dusky olive growth.  The charred tree ferns are topped with magnificent new crowns of emerald green.  Shoots are sprouting between the wrinkles of the banksia’s blackened skin as delightful and funny as the banksia has always been.

I looked in wonder and realized that the earth and plants, again, were showing us a way.  Regardless of the severity of the onslaught, the overwhelming nature of the destruction, the life force that runs through the earth and plants remains steady – and keeps going.  That life force runs through us too.  As the rains came to re-hydrate them, all but a few lost and fallen, quietly, and quickly, get on with their growing.