A TIRED man lining up for a sausage at a food tent suddenly realises the woman serving him is someone he didn't expect to see.

He is covered in dust. She is busy about her task.

But when she notices the man she pauses before they embrace over the shaky trestle table. Knocking over a sauce bottle and a bowl of tomatoes, they cry on each other's shoulders.

They could be family, friends or neighbours.

The scene last week at Kinglake is typical of scenes playing out regularly in small towns across Victoria since bushfires ravaged the state on February 7 last year.

Kinglake and Kinglake West were two of the communities worst hit by the bushfire tragedy.

On the way to Kinglake from Whittlesea it doesn't take long to be surrounded by a black and charred forest.

Towards the top of the hill, the harsh reality hits like a tonne of bricks when the first of hundreds of destroyed homes become visible. Every few hundred metres is another pile of twisted corrugated iron and blackened crumbling bricks.

Some homes have burnt out cars halfway out the driveway; cars are also strewn along the roadside, some smashed into each other, some into trees.

Workers in bright clothing stand out starkly against the greys and blacks of the surrounds.

A man guides traffic with a 'slow' sign. The rebuilding of these communities will also be a terribly slow process.

At Kinglake, the community centre is buzzing. Police, fire and army vehicles dominate the streetscape along with hundreds of people.

Most are walking around busy, with purpose and direction, although some just seem to be wandering.

As soon as milk is dropped off at the coffee tent, the line of thirsty volunteers and locals grows.

On the main street, boxes and bags of fruit and vegetables and toiletries are stacked on the footpath with signs directing residents to take what they need. A steady flow of them do, with some trepidation.