Roberta Writes – Esther Chilton’s Writing Challenge and CFFC #prose #photography

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Esther Chilton’s writing challenge this week is to write about elements. You can join in here: https://estherchilton.co.uk/2025/09/03/writing-prompts-81/

Fire!

There are four natural elements: air, wind, fire, and water. Individually they are fascinating. They can also be destructive and, when out of control, can wreak horror on humanity. Sometimes they combine forces, and the havoc and chaos scale up accordingly.

When I was a young girl, we lived on a small holding in an area called Honeydew. Our house was the original farmhouse for the area. It was old fashioned with a tall water tank and dark, creepy bathrooms. The property was surrounded on three sides by vacant land filled with long, golden veld filled with all sorts of fascinating insects and birds.

We moved to this property because my father wanted to farm. He’d always wanted to do some farming, and when this property became available at a good price, he seized the opportunity. His plan was to plough the out-of-control veld grass on our property in the early spring and plant courgettes (this is another story).

It was the beginning of winter when we moved into our new home. Winter in Johannesburg is dry. It doesn’t rain at all – not a drop, from approximately mid-April until mid-October, sometimes later. During this period, the veld grass dries out and becomes a very pretty fire hazard.

“Fire! Fire!” One hot, dusty late winter day, the shouts travelled from the workers complex up to the house. Mom and I were inside with the younger children when we heard the clamor. Outside we rushed and were confronted by a strong, smoke-laden wind. In the distance, a line of fire swept forward, aided by the wind. It was moving fast, much faster than I imagined fire could travel. I could hear the crackling as the fire consumed the dry grass.

In front of the house, was a lawn of short grass and then a fire break comprised of a few furrows Dad had ploughed before the wild grass started. To one side of the house stood a line of fir trees. These were as dry as tinder at this time of year. As we watched, the fire moved closer and closer. It was making big jumps and setting new patches of veld on fire as it came. The smoke became thicker and crept into the back of our throats as we stood aghast. It tickled and we all started to cough. Ash and bits of black settled on our clothing and hair.

Dad came running towards us, followed by the two male workmen.

“We’re going to have to wet the grass and beat the fire out with sacks,” Dad exclaimed. “Catherine, take the children into the house and stay there. Keep the windows shut to keep the smoke out. Robbie, you need to wet the sacks and pass them to the rest of us.”

During this short period, the fire had come much closer. The front running fires were nearly at the firebreak and two of the trees were starting to smolder.

I remember standing a few metres away from the firebreak next to a tin bath full of water, wetting sacks and handing them to the four adults. They ran up and down the firebreak, beating at the flames as they licked the short grass and tried to get a hold on the fir trees. The air was hot and acrid with smoke, and I was scared. My lungs hurt and my eyes stung.

The fire was winning, and the beaters were falling backwards. I could see Mom’s face, grey with ash and streaked with water as her eyes streamed smoke induced tears. Dad’s beard and hair were grey as if he’d suddenly aged.

Suddenly, the wind changed direction. The fire started moving in the opposite direction, trying to find new food to sustain its flames among the blackened clumps of smoldering veld grass and small bushes.

The changed wind saved our home that day and the fire, deprived of new material, died out, leaving a barren, smoking mess of burned earth. For days and days, ash and black bits crept under the doors and through windows foolishly opened.

rolling and bounding

young flames compete at long jump

which can leap furthest

CFFC

Dan’s CFFC challenge this week is hobbies. You can join in here: https://nofacilities.com/2025/09/08/photos-of-your-hobby-cffc/

I have many hobbies, and they change over time. The following pictures are hobby photographs that feed into the theme of fire.

Picture caption: The Lot of Women (Chaos artwork) by Michael Cheadle in pastels, charcoal and oil pastels. Developing Michael’s art is one of my hobbies – smile!
Picture caption: This is my chaos artwork: Burning Butterflies. It became the cover of my poetry book with the same name.
Picture caption: life sized guitar cake I made for Michael’s 18th birthday and a hummingbird cake for Greg’s 21st birthday. Both with lit candles.
Picture caption: My Lion Scream cake with an exploding volcano behind and a river of fire below. This idea was based on Edvard Munch’s The Scream painting.
Picture caption: a poem from my book Lion Scream
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Published by robertawrites235681907

I am a writer of young adult fiction and poetry

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68 thoughts on “Roberta Writes – Esther Chilton’s Writing Challenge and CFFC #prose #photography”

  2. Prairie fires were common on the dry Canadian prairies too. My dad was always fearful of fires and taught us to be very careful around it. In fact it was a prairie fire that destroyed the original homestead 8 years ago. A great story.

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  3. Oh my goodness Robbie, what a terrifying experience at such a young age.
    Fire and floods do cause the most damage.
    I am always super vigilant about turning off plugs etc before I go out.
    The cakes are amazing.
    So much detail !
    Michael is very talented too I see.
    Thank you for this lovely post.

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  13. That must have been a harrowing experience, Robbie, but I’m sure it’s one you carry as a success. Perhaps due to the wind shift, but also because you all held off the flames as long as you did. Great pictures and poetry and you baking creations are always amazing.

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  15. What a harrowing experience- but I must ask, did your father ever say whether or not the fire increased the productivity of your land? Where I live naturally occurring fires burn hundreds of thousands of acres every summer- fortunately rarely if ever in occupied areas- so I have always wondered this.

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  18. Powerful, Robbie! Such a terrifying memory. We are in our high season and high fire danger here. I am so glad those winds shifted for you that day. Xo

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