Daylight hours seem more precious in their scarcity this time of year, and I find myself thinking of my favorite hour of the day — magic hour. This time, sacred to the bunch-o-dudes, is more commonly referred to as “the golden hour” in photography and film. While it is a colloquial term unbound by scientific definitions like dawn and dusk, the golden hour is most likely to be offered when the sun is between 6 degrees above and below the horizon.

The “hour” part of the term can be a little deceptive. As the boys of twelfth street are acutely aware, the time between sun blinding airs and too dark to judge speed can be closer to 20 minutes. But what magic hour lacks in length, it makes up for in its beauty. Everything is cast with a soft glow, and there is almost a hum of something special as the buzzer counts down to blue. During this in-between time the colors across the skyline often give us pause. As we take in the view it may be a time to reflect on the events of the day. But our awe for this time is nothing new. It’s provided music inspiration for full albums. Entire movies have been filmed during the golden hour (Several by Terrence Mallik, including Days of Heaven, and The Revenant which also included “the blue hour”). Muslims have prayer at this time. Magic hour has been appreciated since before we were humans.

Since it has no true definition, there is wiggle room for interpretation. Magic hour could be a dawn patrol surf before a day of mashing the keyboard. It might be sitting in a lawn chair watching the pink and orange work through the clouds over Lake Superior after a day spent with yelling kids. It could be dropping into a powder field before work as the sun rises behind James Peak. Or it could be making quality time with those you love a priority in a busy schedule. Maybe it’s taking the time to appreciate the great moments in your life when they’re actually happening. Maybe it’s our human lives in a single breadth of geological time. But most of all — to me — magic hour is when a bunch of middle aged dudes rush out of work and head to the mouth of twelfth street canyon to jump their kid bikes over sand piles after the sun drops below the quarry wall. As the bench is aglow, we soak it in while hurrying back to the starter, to sneak in another lap in those moments before it all goes blue.