"As they stood at the top of a field for a moment, looking down, Ruth and Jo saw, first, the haze of green like an openwork shawl laid over the tops of all the trees, where the buds were unfolding into first leaf. Ruth thought that she could never have seen so many different shades of green; the emerald of the larches that fringed the beech woods, and the yellowish green early poplars, ash green willow leaves and the pale, oaten-olive tinge of the young wheat. The grass was green, dark as moss in the shadow of the banks, and clear as lime, high up in the full sun, and when they went into the wood, the light was pond-green and, at their feet, the polished green blades of bluebells."
From In the Springtime of the Year
