We Moved to Higher Ground: Time to Adapt
From climate collapse to political denialism, survival means more than growing veggies—it means standing up to the forces that would rather watch the world burn.
Two years ago, as Ric and I were making a decision whether to sell the home in Albert Park, Melbourne and buy the farm in Red Hill on the Mornington Peninsula, he said, "Bella will be 30 in 2050." He was talking about his eldest, 4-year-old granddaughter. "Having grand-kids has changed how I see the world and the future. Under the current trajectory, it’s looking really scary. I want her to have somewhere to go. I want her to know that at least we tried."
That quiet moment—full of heartbreak and fierce love—was a turning point. It wasn’t about escape. It was about planning, and planting, a future for Bella and her younger cousins Billy and Audrey (and now Henry).
As Albert Park is just 2 metres above sea level (Red Hill is 200 metres above sea level), our decision was cemented by the threat of rising sea levels and the inescapable truth that our home could one day be under threat.
Our veggie garden and chooks after lots of lovely rain this week.
The grim reality is here: adaptation is no longer a choice; it is a necessity. According to the World Meteorological Organisation, the last ten years have been the ten warmest years on record and the 1.5 degree goal of the Paris Agreement is in grave danger. It’s clear that we are past the point of preventing climate change. We are living in the fallout. And yet, as wildfires rage, as floods consume towns, as heatwaves shatter records, we still see the far-right denying the crisis, continuing to champion fossil fuels over renewables, and prioritising power and greed over the wellbeing of future generations.
This is the world we now have to navigate. It will only get worse before it gets better. We are in the midst of what Joanna Macy in Active Hope terms 'the great unravelling'— the necessary, traumatic and destructive stage required for 'the great turning'; the rebuilding of a more habitable and equitable world for all living species.
Faced with the current reality, we’ve renewed our commitment to Red Hill and Kookaburra Rise, our 10-acre off-grid homestead. We aren’t just adapting; we are doubling down on our efforts. Our manifesto is no longer just a guiding principle—it’s a blueprint for survival, resilience, and hope.
A Manifesto for Kookaburra Rise at Red Hill
We are the current custodians of Kookaburra Rise, a land that always was, and always will be, the unceded country of the Boon Wurrung/Bunurong people. We honour their deep, enduring connection to this land and seek to walk in reverence, learning from Country and caring for it as they have for millennia.
Our Vision
Our vision is simple: to create a safe and happy haven for humans to connect with each other and live in harmony with Mother Nature, in recognition and respect of the Traditional Owners.
A Place to Gather, Grow, and Give Back
Our gate is always open. Kookaburra Rise is a living, breathing project—an evolving place where every visitor is part of our story. Whether you come to share a meal, lend a hand, or simply sit in stillness, you are welcome. Feel free to roll up your sleeves, grab a spade, and dig in. There’s always work to be done, and always something to learn.
A Mission for the Future
We’re on a mission toward zero emissions, zero waste, and zero chemicals. Our choices are guided by the Rs: rethink, refuse, repair, reduce, repurpose, reuse, refill, regift, and recycle. It’s not about perfection; it’s about progress, one mindful step at a time.
The soil here is rich, nourished by care and commitment to its health. Our food forest hums with bees, our orchards are heavy with fruit, and our veggie beds burst with life. The chooks scratch happily, the pantry overflows with pickled and dried abundance, and the table is always set for friends. Beyond our own land, we dream of a thriving, self-sufficient community across Red Hill—one that barters, shares, and sustains itself with the gifts of nature.
A Circle of Stories, Fire, and Courage
Around the fire, we gather—to tell stories, to listen, and to have the conversations that matter. This is a place for brave words and bold ideas, a space where thoughts turn into action, where community is more than a concept—it’s a living, breathing practice.
A Home for Nature’s Wild Heart
We look to Mother Nature as our greatest teacher. Our work is one of restoration: clearing invasive species, rewilding with native plants, and shaping a billabong—a sanctuary for birds, frogs, and the creatures who belong here.
One day, we hope a colony of koalas will return to this land, taking their place alongside our ever-laughing friends, the kookaburras. Their presence will be our marker, our measure of success—not as owners, but as caretakers of a place that will outlive us. A place restored, thriving, and full of life for generations to come.
What Comes Next?
Adaptation is the name of the game now, and we all need to be asking ourselves the hard questions:
How will we live as the systems we rely on collapse?
How will we support ourselves, and each other, when governments fail us?
How can we turn despair and fear into hope and positive action?
We don’t have all the answers, but we do know this: survival will not be solitary. Community is our best hope. Small, localised, regenerative ways of living are the future—if we want one.
Our Actions So Far
At Kookaburra Rise, we’re taking a few steps towards resilience and sustainability:
Installing a wood stove, getting rid of gas and electrifying our home and vehicles (almost there).
Building stage one of our veggie garden, buying chickens, composting and enriching the soil.
Removing invasive species, including pine trees and pittosporum (lots to go yet!), to make way for stage two of the veggie garden, orchard and indigenous species.
Joining our local Nature Stewards program to deepen our knowledge of plants, animals, indigenous species, their properties, and how to best restore the land.
Inviting family and friends to visit often, sharing in our veggie garden bounty and inviting them to learn alongside us.
Exploring the idea of a local food swap to strengthen community ties and reduce reliance on fragile supply chains.
Doubling down on sourcing locally and eating seasonally, aligning our diet with the rhythms of the land.
Doing everything we can to ensure Peter Dutton is not elected as our next Prime Minister by supporting the Independents.
Removing invasive species to make way for growing more food.
Adaptation for Urbanites
We also acknowledge our deep privilege in being able to make these choices. Having access to land, time and resources to create a more sustainable way of living is not possible for the majority of people. Many people, especially those in urban environments, may feel stuck—reliant on failing systems with fewer options to adapt.
So, how can adaptation happen for those in cities and dense suburban areas? It starts with community and mindset shifts:
Urban gardening: Balcony gardens, community allotments, and even small windowsill herb setups can make a difference.
Resilient networks: Strengthening local community ties through food co-ops, shared resources, and mutual aid groups.
Reducing reliance on fragile systems: Learning basic skills like preserving food, repairing clothes, and sourcing locally.
Advocacy and action: Pushing for policy changes that support climate resilience, like better public transport, sustainable housing, and green energy initiatives.
No action is too small. What matters is that we all start somewhere, together.
We believe adaptation is a collective effort. What actions are you taking in your own life? I'm keen to hear and learn.
Carolyn Tate is an author, educator and community-builder who writes to advance the rights of women, nature and the environment. This Between Two Hills Substack publication is FREE and delivered bi-weekly. If you like what you read, please support her work by sharing it with a friend.
Carolyn, Thanks for this post. We have a smaller piece of land on a hill in southern Sweden and we,too, are concerned for the future using the scale of our 3 (soon 4) young grandchildren across to local, national and international communities.