The grass is not just dry, it’s dead.
When we walk outside, it crunches under our feet. We feed the birds and leave out buckets of water, because there’s just nothing else for them to eat and drink. Our dam, which was designed to accomodate a large overspill, is completely dry. The ducks that nested on the tiny island in the middle, safe from foxes, have found new homes.
Once-lush gullys are now time bombs of brown fuel. Every day, there’s a new kangaroo dead on the side of the road, driven out of the bush by lack of food.