This is really unbelievable how numerous the shades of green are. The early spring shades are different than the late spring ones, the summer shades are not the same as the autumn ones, the June shades of green are not alike the August ones, the forest green is not similar to the meadow one. This is really unbelievable that we have only one word to name such a variety, such an abundance of colours: GREEN. Well, we have also celadon. And emerald. Maybe also sea green – although nobody really knows what colour it is. It should indicate what and which sea we are referring to. The colour of the Red Sea is with no doubt different than the colour of the Black Sea, which is not the same as the colour of the Yellow Sea, which certainly doesn't fit to the definition of the colour of the White Sea. With no doubt the colour of the rough Red Sea is different than the colour of the smooth Red Sea which definitely does not redden in the morning like it reddens in the evening. It's strange, but there's no Green Sea, though seas can turn green quite often due to algae invasions. The more strange is that there's no Blue Sea. Nor Dark Blue Sea. Nor Purple Sea. Nor Violet Sea. Nor Turquoise Sea. All these colours can seen so easily on the surface of every sea. Somewhere should be the Colourless Sea – in fact water has no colour, this is what they say and write about water, although the lack of colour seems something impossible. In the common opinion of behind-beyond-fence-and-screen people the sea colour is a not clearly defined mixture of green, blue and grey with some traces of many other colours nobody knows which and what. There are some justified fears that every inhabitant of the beyond-screen lands asked to describe the sea colour would describe a different colour although all of them would admit they thought about the same colour. The lack of the following colours: lake colour, river colour, creek colour, stream colour, pond colour, harbour colour, lagoon colour, ocean colour (or maybe lakey, rivery, creeky, streamy, pondy, harboury, lagoony, oceany) is also very interesting. There's no rain colour and puddle colour, either. But we use the term mud (or muddy) colour. However it doesn't have much sense to consider the problem of the sea colour, and the water colour as well, when there are so many other thing so much more green than the sea. Well, let's take grass. We used to say grass green (or maybe grassy green), but the number of varieties of grass is really huge and each variety is green in its own way. The grass colour, whatever it is, is not the counterpart of the sea colour – looking for such a counterpart we should think rather of a meadow colour, or steppe colour, or prairie colour. As well as of a forest colour, or jungle colour, or taiga colour. Unfortunately, defining the forest colour would cause enormous obstacles and problems, while the sea colour doesn't cause any problems of that kind. Anyway, the forest over there, in the distance, is sea colour, or dark sea colour to be more precise. It's not so strange since a forest is just the sea of trees, swaying, swinging, undulating, see-sawing. Beautiful is this forest. It surrounds the meadow with a beautiful wavy line. What a pity the screen don't have wavy frames. The screen frames are always straight rectangular. What a lack of imagination. The forest is far away. The meadow is closer. And this meadow is with no doubt meadow green, or meadow colour. Although it could be sea colour, because a meadow is but the sea of grasses, flowers and herbs. The meadow colour is a compound colour. It is composed of the colours of separate grasses, herbs and flowers. The behind-beyond-fence people speak about small pea colour meaning of course the green pea, little balls just podded, and not big whitish kidney shape grains – so, we can speak about sorrel colour, knotgrass colour, salvia colour, plantain colour and many others. In fact these terms are not precise although they look so – they only pretend to be precise, but they don't indicate which part of the plant they refer to. We may take as default they refer to leaves, however such assumption is not justified since the pea green refers to the seeds hidden inside the pod. We don't know either whether they refer to a fresh plant, young sprout growing vividly, full of energy and almost exploding with sap, or maybe a mature one, cover with dust, bit tired of heat and sun, or maybe withered, almost dying, leaning to the ground. The inhabitants of cold snow-ice deserts are supposed to have some dozens of words for different sorts of snow. I wonder if they have some dozens of words to name different white colours (the behind-beyond-fence and beyond-screen people use terms milk colour and cream colour, but it is not known why they don't use the terms yogurt, kefir, cottage cheese colours). The inhabitants of hot sand deserts are supposed to have many words for different kinds of sand. I wonder if they have as many words for different shades of yellow. Provided that the sand is yellow – it's not like that every sand is yellow. The sand colour is nobody-knows-what, although, like in the case of sea colour, the overwhelming majority of inhabitants of beyond-fence and beyond-screen lands and countries would say it is not clearly defined mixture of yellow, grey and several other colours, and with no doubt everybody would think about mixture of different proportions and with traces of different dyes. Somebody tired of such unprecise definitions would imagine that in screen lands such problems don't exist – it's enough to use RGB or CMYK or any other palette and everything is clear. Nevertheless it is not, because these systems don't use such attributes as the quality and type of a screen, light in the room, eyesight.... Well, the relation between the ideal and real situations is like the relation between html source code and what one can see on the screen, or like relation between  configuration of atoms within pigments and the meadow lazily spreading in front of us . . . . . .