One year on and the memories are scorched into my brain as if it happened yesterday.
On a Sunday afternoon having drinks with friends at the winery I saw a plume of smoke coming from the west. The following morning I got into the newsroom and made some calls - "the fire is under control and crews remain on scene" was what I was told, and reported.
What no one saw coming was the extreme wind that would fan the fire out of control and towards suburbia, threatening properties and sending our small town into an emergency.
More than 100 triple zero calls were made in the space of just minutes on August 15 as the blaze intensified and residents woke to a red glow coming from Mount Kingiman.
The sleepy area of Woodburn quickly became a hive of energy as emergency crews from across the state came to fight the fire and save our community from devastation.
Sheds and belongings were lost. Animals were scorched. Infrastructure was ruined. Emergency crews worked until they physically couldn't anymore. And a hero lost his life.
In a few short days, the fire made a mark never to be removed on many in the town.
Still today, you see blackened trees driving up Croobyar Road - a visual reminder of the destruction.
But, if emergencies such as the Kingiman Fire teach us anything, besides resilience, it's the meaning of community.
Cafes, school children, the mechanic down the road, independent grocers, and Jo next door all came together during the time of need. They got in the kitchen and made sandwiches to feed our men and women on the frontline, they made posters to brighten the days of those affected by the fire, and they supported each other physically and emotionally.
This is a close knit community at work, and it was in full bloom during the Kingiman blaze.
Then there is the name many will never forget - Alan Tull. The New Zealand man was the hero who lost his life water bombing the fire from a helicopter he had flown many times before, on a route he had completed several times already.
Just as firefighters were gaining the upper hand on the fire, the unthinkable happened and Tully went down. The command post fell eerily silent. And then what happened sunk in.
Just an hour earlier I chatted to Tully and took his photo while he enjoyed a sandwich before he took off for what was his final flight.
Sometimes in this job you meet people who really strike a chord with you and leave a lasting impression. Tully did this - he was so calm, collected and clearly experienced flying not just over the Australian landscape, but across the world. He was a man of few words, but he made the ones he said count.
"You just keep going", he said of the arduous work.
And keep going is exactly what the community, and amazing volunteers, has done since the Kingiman blaze 12 months ago.