In a wonderful intersection of real life and fiction I read of the blue hour at lunch today in "Out Stealing Horses" by Per Petterson:
Outside, the blue hour has arrived. Everything draws closer; the shed, the edge of the wood, the lake beyond the trees, it is as if the tinted air binds the world together and there is nothing disconnected out there.
Have you ever read anything that seemed particularly pertinent and descriptive of what was going on outside your window? Or perhaps within your heart?