Gillian Monks

This morning I awoke to the blessed sound of rain gently falling, soaking the land and cooling the air. In recent days, Wales has become the ‘land of fire’ as wild fires have swept across our moorland and mountains – from north to south, east to west – there have been at least six fires here in my own valley, some of them extensive…

…And one personally frightening. Thursday had been a beautiful day of balmy  sunshine and warm winds. It was officially the Vernal or Spring Equinox, (although my dear husband had informed me that the daylight had actually begun to grow longer than the darkness from Tuesday onwards), but we had decided to mark the occasion with celebration on Saturday so that our druid grove members with weekday working hours could also be with us.

I was preparing for bed late that evening and thought that I would just check my messages in case there was one from my son who was away from home that night.

I was saddened to see a post from a friend living in a nearby village who was commenting on the the huge wildfire currently blazing across her side of the mountain a couple of miles away. On my way to the bathroom, I went into the back bedroom – now used as an office – and was immediately confronted with a line of leaping flames racing across the lower hillside towards the village!

There are a couple of rows of houses between us and that approach to the village, but with pictures fresh in my mind of devastating fires around the world, and most recently the destructive wildfires in California, I immediately sprang into action.

Rousing my already slumbering husband from his warm bed, I began to collect important documents and artefacts, along with changes of clean clothes and other immediate everyday essentials. I then spent much of the night sat in the dark in my son’s office chair, staring through the window at the ever-encroaching line of fire, monitoring its progress, and as calmly as possible making further plans to possibly evacuate and/or house elderly neighbours from further up the mountain – one old gentleman who is bedridden and who’s cottage I suspected was directly in the path of the voracious flames. I was also mentally tussling with the dilemma of how to transport our four cats from the site when in possession of only one cat carrier.

I have had several experiences with fire, the first being at the age of two and a half, when my mother rushed me through a wall of flame which had engulfed the stairs to the bedroom after an elderly pet had accidentally knocked over a paraffin heater. Two years later, the woods around our cottage caught fire, and my mother and her little daughter were discovered valiantly bucketing water from the river in a vain attempt to control it until the fire brigade arrived. On that occasion, the authorities surmised that the conflagration was started accidentally by a carelessly discarded cigarette butt. However, the fire which totally destroyed our family home of fifty years back in 2010 was no accident but an act of arson resulting from a bungled burglary. (We had faced break-ins before, as we lived in an isolated spot, but never in my wildest dreams had I anticipated the possibility of anyone actually ‘stealing’ the entire cottage!)

Periodically, I would now traverse the sleeping household on sorties to the Aga downstairs to make myself sustaining cups of tea.

The hours ticked away. Mercifully, the blustery wind was driving the fire diagonally across the slope along and behind the village, but if it changed direction… Sometimes, the flames would die right down and I would wonder if the danger was actually passed, but then another gust of wind would come along and bright fluorescent orange and glowing scarlet would bloom in distressing patches along a very long line. Occasionally, a particularly large gorse bush or small tree would catch light and the flames would leap twenty or thirty feet in the air and light up the whole side of the hill.

I watched in fascination as lights flashed across the hillside and along the line of fire. Although I couldn’t see them, I knew that the fire service was out there valiantly fighting to save more destruction to the natural world and to human habitation. Endeavouring to ‘walk my talk’, I found myself sending out unconditional love to the element of fire, letting go of all fears and trusting that all was unfolding as it should… whatever happened. This might sound overly dramatic, but I found myself seriously wondering if my time had come to have my life completely turned upside down as so many other millions of souls have in recent years. Was this ‘it’ for me and my loved ones?

Mastering my emotions was a challenge, and I found myself pouring more positivity and love towards those who were battling out on the hillside on my behalf, than being grateful for the cleansing qualities of the fire itself.

I looked down on the houses below us and had the almost irresistible urge to go banging on all the front doors to waken the occupants and get everyone out on that hillside where the struggle seemed so drastically weighed against the puny human. To me, it appeared almost morally indecent that we should all be cosily snoring in our beds, totally unaware of the huge effort being made on our behalf – having been brought up in the countryside, I have been trained to get out and sort one’s own problems, without necessarily relying on help, official or otherwise.

Eventually, around 4.30.am. I felt sure enough that everything was under control to actually relax sufficiently and go to bed, although I had little sleep that morning, especially as the local council decided to arrive early to dig around in the road outside my bedroom window and fill in holes in the tarmac.

What, or more accurately I should ask, who, is setting these fires no one seems to know, but they are widespread and numerous. Humanity rarely suffers but it is the wildlife – now in full mating and nesting season – which suffers so dreadfully. The long-term damage to the environment is incalculable, especially where peat beds take light – some of them have taken thousands of years to form and are dozens of feet deep… and can burn for months.

So, yes, today I am rejoicing at the gentle grey clouds and damp conditions. We put away our concerns for now, lick our wounds, and face the uncertain and challenging future which 2025 has promised to bring us.

Take care, and be aware of what is going on around you, and of our joint responsibility.

With my love.