Drive along a country road thru cornfields and tiny towns at 3pm and you’ll think, “This is cute I guess.” Make the same drive at 8pm in the summertime and you’ll think, “I would buy this painting. I would bottle this dusk-induced nostalgia. I would pay someone to make a movie of when we rode bikes, played baseball, ate popsicles at this same hour, years ago. I would download the country song about this strange feeling I have when the sunlight shines thru the bug carnage on my windshield and fills the Jeep with its heavy warmth.” We may have to suffer through oppressive humidity in the summer, but our reward is the magic hour. Why does this time of day make me feel so strangely good? Am I the only one?