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Looking out of our window yesterday late afternoon on Atlantic Avenue, I was reminded of what my cousin Francoise taught me about the blue hour, that time at twilight when the light is just so,  the red light shoots straight out into space, while the blue light remains scattered throughout the atmosphere giving us the soft blue hues that soften the harsh edges.

Even with the damp gloom that permeated the entire Northeast all day yesterday, the blue hour still made Boston very pretty for those forty minutes.