I’m sitting in the shade in my garden reading “The World according to David Hockney”

I read:

I was driving someone up here and I asked them what colour was the road. Ten minutes later, I asked the same question, and he saw it was different.
He said, “I’d never thought what colour the road was.”
Frankly, unless you’re asked, it’s just road colour.

I looked up and saw my weeping flowering cherry tree, and tried to describe the colour of its leaves to myself - lime for the majority, with darker patches and veins. I then let my gaze settle on the other trees and plants - including the ivy trying to climb down the wall, which I’ll need to cut back someday soon - and got to 8 or 9 different shades before realising I lacked the vocabulary to describe any of them reliably.

So many indescribable (by me) shades of green.