It doesn’t feel anything at all like Spring today, huge snowflakes drift to the ground from a leaden sky, too wet to stick, just cold and damp. 

Last weekend was a different story. It felt like we were on the cusp of Spring, ready for a new season to burst into life. We visited a favourite nearby reserve, Moor Copse, where in summer dragonflies dance and flit above the water and in the meadows butterflies glide and play. 

The sunshine glinted on the rushing water, warm against our faces, and everywhere it seemed there were signs of life returning after the winter recess. 

Bright green moss, the colour mirrored in rings of the turkey tail fungus, colours like the ripples in a drop of spilt oil in a puddle. 

On the riverbank snowdrops were beginning to bloom, a sure sign of spring. 

I love this mossy bridge, unused and left to the elements for nature to reclaim. 

Catkins opened, swaying gently in the breeze, spreading pollen. 

Above the river the perfect bridge for pooh sticks, reflections waving on the rushing waters as we wait to see who is the victor. 

Deep blue sky full of promises of warmer days to come, ghostly silhouettes of winter trees reminding us that spring is not here yet. 

Fresh leaves emerge in the undergrowth, delicate and bright. 

Fungi, moss and lichens still providing the most interest in the wintry wood. 

Last year’s seed heads glow golden against the low sun, it’s descent slower now than at the turn of the year, days gradually lengthening.