They say the camera never lies. But it doesn’t always tell the whole truth….
Today’s pictures might seem to be firmly rooted in the Colne winter, with big, cold skies, waders and ducks, and frost. Real frost on buttercup leaves, and lichens frosting the branches of Blackthorn, as yet not festooned with flowers.

But aside from the purely visual, Spring was in the air this morning. Curlews now bubbling more than whelping; pairing Shelducks, their pas-de-deux accompanied by gentle, companionable quacking; Skylarks and Reed Buntings in full song. Polar opposites on the vocal spectrum, both are gold medallists, Skylarks for freestyle flamboyance, Reed Buntings for metronomic precision.

First light on Barrier Marsh: ideal conditions to see its structure and interpret its history. Thrown into relief by the low sunrays, and contrast enhanced by light frosting, thousands of ant-hills in the central section spoke of long, undisturbed development, whereas either end has clearly been levelled, and in part ploughed in the past. The ants are reclaiming the flatlands, but to build a big anthill takes many decades.

Still in the grip of frosty mornings, into Wivenhoe Wood we ventured. From frozen earth and crystal-clad grass to slithery mud – good Essex mud – despite the lack of foliage, the mere presence of trees sufficient to create an insulating blanket over the ground. And good for the Moles, needing to feed on earthworms through the winter and therefore seeking out ground less prone to freezing.

Two of the earliest promises of spring, buds of Honeysuckle and Bluebells spearing the leaf-mould, have been evident since before the Solstice, but now their pregnant swelling is bursting forth. And Holly Leaf-miners are resuming their internal munching, protected from the cold still further within the tough coat of Holly leaf. Thus insulated from the vagaries of the climate, the grubs will be an abundant, reliable, and well-signposted food for Blue Tit chicks in a couple of months’ time.

A Great Spotted Woodpecker drummed loudly in the still air, and a noisy party of five Siskins demolished their way through the seed-filled cones of an Alder. But most striking of all, almost luminescent in vivid orange against a backdrop of earthen browns, patches of Golden Jelly-fungus growing out of dead twigs, like a beacon….

After the very spring-like weekend, it was almost inevitable that winter would show its teeth again. Snow yesterday, but today deep, penetrating frost, producing a magical landscape for those of us out and about just after sunrise.

Whether a shimmering cloak on the ground or the filigree fingers of frost entwining and embracing the dormant vegetation, such mornings are a delight  and inspiration for any photographer.

And never despair, the signs of spring are still there. Birdsong, triggered more by day length than temperature, is swelling by the day. Around Ferry Marsh, Great Tits and Dunnocks really going for it, to a backdrop of distant Skylark, and our newest resident a Cetti’s Warbler exclaiming his almost angry song, unseen, deep in the scrubby reeds. But a second bird, silent save for a guttural croak, moving through the hedge-line, and showing itself surprisingly well: could that have been a female, searching for a nest site?

The signs are there! Buds swelling, the first flowers bursting, and insects emerging…while we may still be plunged into the depths of cold, all it takes is a little bit of sun to stir Spring into life.

Along Cutthroat Lane today, the Butcher’s Broom flowers – small, unassuming, but beautiful – are bursting from their buds in the centres of the sharply pointed ‘leaves’; while the berries from the class of 2017 shine bright even in the deepest shade.

Although not everything red and shiny is part of the plant: Seven Spot Ladybirds are emerging from their winter torpor to take up their task of making inroads into aphid populations.

The first Red Dead-nettles are flowering, a favourite source of food for the first bumblebees..

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…while on Barrier Marsh, damp hollows are filling up with the newly-germinated rosettes of the annual Hairy Buttercup.

An escape from cultivation, Greater Periwinkle is starting to flower in hedgebanks now. Often mistaken for its smaller relative the Lesser Periwinkle, to separate them look for the fringe of hairs round the edge of Greater’s leaves…

Meanwhile, Gorse is blooming as it always is (‘When Gorse is in flower, kissing’s in season’), although the sun’s heat isn’t yet sufficient to release the coconut fragrance. But they do look lovely, especially mingled with the hairy, almost singed-looking buds.

And Hazel, tantalising with its promise of Spring since before Christmas, is still going strong, the dangling male catkins releasing pollen, while the tiny red female flowers await their fate on the wind.