Feathery-soft cool ash sits in my palm, disintegrating as it falls through my fingers.
It was part of the lantana (Lantana camara) on fire not long ago, but now as it returns to the ground it will become a cover for regenerating species.
Around me, a haze rises through the canopy, thin, pale clouds that are backlit by the sun. The fire itself is almost unremarkable. It moves low and slow through the grass and leaf litter. It leaves small unburnt patches in its wake. All you hear is a low crackle, a soft collapse as stems give way, and the birds chittering, with the faint smell of smoke into the morning air.
We walk with the fire.
A few metres ahead, the group pauses, watching the line as it creeps forward. Someone points to a section where the flame has dropped, where it has run out of fuel and begun to extinguish itself. There is no urgency, no raised voices. Just quiet discussion on how it’s tracking, how it’s behaving, and what the plan is next.
It feels, above all, controlled.
This is a cool ecological burn, carried out on a private property tucked into the hills in the Gold Coast hinterland.
