The garden is green. In Seattle, the garden is almost always green, but the green changes. Wintergreen is dull green, tired green, green that's just barely keeping up appearances. Summergreen is deep green, fat with green, so replete with chlorophyll that on rainy days the city is drenched in it. Autumngreen is olive green, camo green, blending into the background, knowing our attention is on the splashes of red, yellow, and orange, holding what green it can for when it is the only color left.
But Springgreen. Spring green shimmers. It dances in the April breeze. It drinks up April rain. It twinkles in stray April sunlight. It wraps itself around you like a green gauze scarf. It melts on your tongue like pistachio gelato. It is clean and crisp, soft and cool. There is no other green like it.
Springgreen makes promises it can't always keep. But we believe them anyway.