At Yotsuya Senmaida A gohei-mochi break before looking out over the rice terraces

The gohei-mochi in my hand smelled of toasted miso. I stopped the car and took a break at Yotsuya Senmaida in June. I'd been looking forward to this snack since before I set off, but one look towards the valley was enough to make me pause with it in my hand.

Small rice fields climbed in tier after tier between the mountains. A breeze brushed the hem of my pink dress, and I felt cooler after stepping out of the hot car. My red car stayed in the car park on the left while I followed the terraces with my eyes to the far end of the valley.

Local farmers still cultivate around 400 rice paddies here, I learned. Thinking of that, I stopped seeing the fields as just a pretty view; they became a place where someone was growing rice today. I could picture people tending each little plot, terrace by terrace.

I lifted the gohei-mochi close to my face and looked at its toasted surface. It's a local dish from Okumikawa, made by shaping pounded rice around a skewer and grilling it. With rice fields spread out in front of me, I wanted to pay more attention than usual to the rice as I ate. I couldn't have picked a better snack for this spot.

I took a bite. First came the fragrant miso, then the sweetness of the rice. I was hungry, too, but I didn't want to rush the next bite, so I lowered the skewer for a moment. Knowing spring water from halfway up the mountain irrigates these terraces made me want to savour this moment with the view even more.

I put the skewer away and looked at the mountains a little longer. When I first heard the name Senmaida, all I could think about was how many rice fields there were. But when it was time to leave, the number was no longer what I remembered. It was the overlapping stone walls and the early-summer valley I had looked out over while enjoying my rice snack.