THE evening before I had gone for a stroll on Hartlebury Common, and once away from the glare of the worst of the street lights, I had taken a moment to stop and stare up into the clear skies.

The sky was a mass of tiny stars, but the most striking sight was the thin crescent of the moon and the planet Venus, which was shining just as brightly and looked as if it was just a finger's breadth away.

After such a clear night it was hardly surprising that the following morning was a frosty one.

I have always liked walking the nature reserves at around dawn. I am not exactly sure why, but they always feel that little bit more vibrant. It is particularly easy to do this at this time of year as the sun rises quite late and you do not have to get up too early.

I can remember setting the alarm and getting up at 3.30am to watch the sun come up over the sea from a sand dune nature reserve in Norfolk during one summer holiday and, yes, it was worth it.

After scraping the ice from the car, I arrived at the Devil's Spittleful nature reserve.

A browny-orange glow was filling the sky, slowing changing to a deep red which reflected on small wisps of clouds, and the vast array of ice crystals which covered the entire landscape with a thick frost.

Over the next few minutes the red faded to a lemony yellow and deep blue sky. The nature reserve looked wonderful - almost like an ice kingdom - a true winter scene.

However, as I went ,on I noticed that things were not as silent as they had been on recent morning excursions.

Across the frost-covered land came the shrill and not quite what you would call "melodious" song of the great tit.

Then over the heath I could see a kestrel in hover, searching for the signs of a small mammal on which to pounce.

Things were no longer feeling like the bleak winter landscape I had walked into a few minutes before - now things were feeling much more alive.

The sun had appeared, blazing across the ridges that surround this reserve.

The ice crystals on the trees and heather sparkled beautifully and a blackbird broke into song.

The melody of this seemed to bring a warmth to the landscape that truly was not there. The sun rose a fraction higher in the sky and I could feel its presence from the warmth on the back of my neck.

The ice crystals rapidly lost their sparkle and colour seemed to flood back into the landscape.

With the birds singing and the feel of the warmth of the sun on my face it was just like watching the change of a season all condensed into an hour's walk.

I half expected that if I had stayed any longer the reserve would have burst into bloom.

Was this the first day to herald in spring? I don't know, but I hope so.