I've always adored midnight green. I remember when as a child we drove to my grandparents' village. It is lodged among the South-Western hills of Zala, in a little corner of Hungary, close to the Croatian border.
The hills are covered in thick forests. Pines, oaks, and beeches mostly, and also firs and white birches. Due to the presence of large thickets of evergreens everwhere, the foliage displays many shades of green, even in the middle of the snowy, cold winters.
One can observe bright, light greens, like spring green or emerald, light mossy green among the trees, and pastel teal patches of silver firs, as well as darker sections of hunter's green.
However, my favourite colour has been for a long time the dark midnight green. Whenever I read books as a child, Jack London's The Call of the Wild, Tolkien's Lord of the Rings, or Emile Ajar's Momo, I imagined forests and trees as groves of midnight green, hiding and covering, shielding and secretive.
I still love the forests now, as a grown up. When I go hiking in the mountains, some of the sections I enjoy most are the winding paths up through the foresty bits, where only a little light seeps in through the cracks between the large branches covered in leafs. Walking through those parts of the forests transports me back into my childhood world, and gives me a feeling of excitement - perhaps connected to the expectation of seeing my beloved grandparents - and a promise of adventure.
Shades of dark green in the forest at 4:30AM, before ascending Mt Kaikoma-ga-take in Yamanashi