AS March blends into April spring slowly starts to unfold.

The wetlands have been the first to respond to the sun's warming rays with new growth starting to come through.

The first flowers have even started to open, with the most striking of these being the beautiful sunshine yellow lesser celandine.

In olden times this plant was given the far less complimentary name of pile wort. It got its name from the belief that if a plant looked like the symptoms of an ailment then it would be a cure. This is of course rubbish, but the poor old celandine, due to the bulbous nodules on its roots, ended up with this name.

Another marsh flower in bloom is the so-called ground ivy. It is one of my favourite flowers, as not only is it one of the first touches after winter, but it also has a wonderful scent.

In the past this plant has also acquired the name of ale hoof, which is apt as the leaf is shaped like an animal's hoof and its rich aroma and bitter taste were used in the production of beer before hops were introduced into this country. In the woods on the fringes of the marshes, the succulent green leaves of things to come can also be seen.

In the drier places, bluebell leaves are apparent, but in the wet spots strange spear-headed shaped leaves are starting to appear in clusters.

Some of these leaves are also covered in spots. These are the spring leaves of a peculiar plant.

Its most common names in this part of the country are lords and ladies, or cuckoo pint. In other areas it is sometimes called bizarre names such as "jack in the pulpit", or "snakes meat". In a few weeks' time, the flower head will appear and it is unlike any other flower you are likely to ever come across.

It is a large curled leaf enclosing a strange foul-smelling purple sausage.

The flower's foul smell attracts flies, which fall into a pit at the base of the flower and are prevented from leaving by special guard hairs.

The flies are then liberally doused with pollen before being released the following morning.

The pollen is slightly luminous, meaning the flowers can be spotted on a dark night, which leads to yet another name of "shiners".