In January 2026, devastating fires swept through Victoria, including the Longwood fires. Ruffy, Longwood and the surrounding areas were among the hardest hit, and very dear friends of mine lost their property, along with many others in the wider community.
The only building left standing in Ruffy was the Community Hall, and it quickly became the hub for everything: meals, groceries, clothing, household items and, most of all, each other.
A call went out for first aiders to support the volunteer fencing teams repairing fences so farmers could keep their remaining livestock contained. My fellow anthroposophical nurse Johanna, my friend Alison and I put our hands up. I had recently moved back to the Mornington Peninsula after four and a half years living near Mansfield, not far from where the fires had torn through and the moment I heard, I felt an unmistakable pull back to a community I had once called my own.
I remember calling my mentor Pippa unsure of what else I could possibly offer these people only recently affected by the fires. She didn’t hesitate. “Why don’t you bring footbaths, and offer them?”
What a brilliant idea I thought, and as anthroposohic nurses we understand that such a simple gesture of the footbath can help to incarnate a person and help soothe them. So, I packed my buckets, a selection of Weleda bath milks and oils, towels, sheets, and my first aid kit, fully stocked and set off.
Arriving in Ruffy
We met a group of around fifty volunteers on the side of the Hume Highway at the Longwood turnoff, then convoyed our way in together. A local volunteer guided us into the centre of town, and we set up our first aid station beneath the trees right by the hall.
The landscape told its own story. Blackened trees stood against scorched, grassy acres the rawest kind of aftermath. Inside, the little hall had become something like a makeshift supermarket, its tables and rows of shoes and folded clothes standing in for everything people had lost.
We set up and began checking in with locals, gently aware of how recent and how raw it all still was. A few needed dressings or antiseptic. But the burly volunteers out mending fences all day? Not one of them asked for help, you got the sense they’d have to be in real trouble before they’d admit to needing it. Mostly, what people needed was somewhere to sit and someone willing to listen. We sensed they needed to feel that others cared about what they’d been through. It had been two weeks since the fires ended.
Three Girls and a Footbath
As the afternoon wore on, I noticed three young girls playing nearby, nine, ten and eleven years old I’d guess. We had three chairs set up, ready and waiting for anyone who wanted a footbath, so I asked if they’d like to try one.
They said yes before I’d even finished the question.
We showed them the different Weleda bath milks so they could each choose their favourite scent, wrapped a blanket around each girl with her permission, and lowered their feet into warm water fragrant with either lemon, lavender or rosemary. We brought them water to drink, and they sat back, relaxed, smiling, chattering to each other like it was the best thing in the world.
They stayed in those footbaths for what felt like a long, unhurried while. Their parents and grandparents began to wander over to see what all the giggling was about and what they found were three girls utterly at ease, being looked after. We waved the grown-ups over and told them to take a seat as they were next.
One by one, they did. Parents first, then grandparents. And as each person let themselves be cared for, feet in warm water, a blanket around their shoulders something in them opened. The stories started to come. Not just to us, but to each other. It was as if the simple act of having your feet held and warmed, surrounded by others going through the same thing, cracked something open and let it breathe. A whole two weeks’ worth of shock and grief and exhaustion finally finding somewhere to go.
Farmers came too, eventually, dirt from days of hard, heartbreaking work still on their skin. It was hot and one asked, quite reasonably, if he could have a beer while his feet soaked. Of course he could. Once each person was done, we massaged their feet with oil and helped them back into their socks and shoes, the whole thing unhurried, almost ceremonial.
The Bubbles
There’s one image from that day I know I’ll carry for the rest of my life.
While the adults sat with their feet in warm water, deep in conversation, the three girls started blowing bubbles drifting quietly through the whole space, catching the afternoon light. No fuss, no announcement. Just this soft, wordless gesture, floating over the heads of the people telling their hardest stories.
Without knowing it, I think those girls were healing the grown-ups as much as we were. There’s nothing I can compare it to. You could feel something shift in the air the permission, finally, to stop. To rest. To be looked after, for just a moment in the middle of everything.
Coming Back
We returned to Ruffy two more times after that first afternoon, bringing the same buckets, the same bath milks and oils, and finding the same thing happen each time: a quiet, sacred space opening up around the simple act of tending to someone’s feet.
Our last visit was for International Women’s Day. I came with a group of pampering therapists from my old Mansfield community as well as another fellow Anthroposophic nurse Teresa, and together we spent the day nurturing the women of Ruffy, many of these women I’d called friends during my four and a half years living nearby. It was, without question, an honour to be part of that and we all felt moved by the experience.
A few months later, the “Emergency Pedagogy Without Borders” team arrived as well as my mentor Pippa, to continue supporting the community and surrounding areas. Watching it all unfold taught me something I don’t think I’ll forget in a crisis this size, everyone has a part to play. No gesture is too small. You simply give what you can, when you can sometimes that’s a fence rebuilt, and sometimes it’s a bucket of warm water with beautiful scent and a listening ear.
Image
Sign was made by the girls blowing bubbles and hung at the entrance of the hall.
