This morning, like every weekday morning, SJ & I got in the car around 7.45am to make the drive to work.
As we were heading out of town and into the Pass (a winding road that makes its way through the ranges) I commented about the haze sitting over the peaks and across the flats. The further we travelled into the Pass the thicker the haze became, and took on a brown-grey tinge. I asked SJ if he thought it to be dust.
Smoke, he replied.
As we came out of the Pass and over the last few hills and down onto the plateau of the Gulf the smoke stretched as far as the eye could see. The hills we were leaving behind were seemingly being swallowed by it.
There are no fires in the area and we do not live in Victoria.
In fact, we are thousands of kilometres away from the nearest bushfire currently burning over the border.
Yet on an otherwise clear, cool and calm morning, with the wind having blown in just the right direction, remnants of the devestation came to settle on my little town.
And as the day continues, so does the haze and its smell.
An eerie reminder.
[I had the camera in my bag and was all poised to take some photos of this strange event this morning whilst travelling to work, when I realised the front windscreen of the car was covered in dead bugs, and so didnt bother].