Country diary: Bursts of white in the winter murk | Kate Blincoe

Caistor St Edmund, Norfolk: As chief clothes-washer in our home, I see egrets and snowdrops and wonder how anything living in the marsh or riverbank can stay so clean The dazzling white of snow gave way to sludge underfoot. Then came the heavy rain, returning us to mud and the drabness of late winter. A ghost rises beside the lake, taking form as it separates itself from the low mist. Against the grey of the sky, the impossible brilliance of its perfect white, metre-wide wingspan is jolting. It’s a little egret, a small, white heron with impressive wings.