deep roots mean HARDY PLANTS
TWO YEARS AGO the bush was brown. Dead leaves no longer crackled under our feet – desperate animals had eaten even those. Then for three months the sky was red, the air grey and the land around us burned. Miraculously, the fire was held back from us by a stubborn northerly, but spot fires and gale force hot dry winds killed much of the bush and garden . . .
Except trees that seemed dead have resprouted. Every single camellia has come back, all the roses, every fruit tree apart from the white mulberry. As I write this the animals are so fat the wallabies hardly bother to hop. The wombats mooch out for a munch then wander back into their burrows to sleep. Paradise
