Everleigh—an emerald-toned variation of the Old English Everly, “boar meadow”—wanders into the ear like the hush before a shakuhachi flute begins, at once pastoral and unexpectedly polished; it is a name that seems to stroll through a Sussex clearing, then slip off its shoes to share matcha beneath springtime sakura. Born as a surname, it has lately unfolded, origami-style, into given-name status, vaulting from near obscurity in 2008 to graze America’s Top 100 a mere dozen springs later, as though the entire population collectively discovered a tucked-away garden and decided to picnic there. Its syllables—EV / er / lee—leap lightly, the first bright and eager, the last lingering like the tail of a comet, offering parents a modern sound without abandoning the gentle moss of history. Associations drift from bohemian art studios to minimalist nurseries, yet the name retains a cool poise: one can imagine Everleigh adjusting a silk kimono with the same calm it would bring to a neighborhood block party, unfazed by the etymological boar no one invited. In sum, Everleigh is a meadow where old roots and new petals cohabit, inviting any young bearer to step softly, breathe deeply, and write her own haiku on the wind.