I watched the lights until the town's roads came into view A weekday evening in autumn, looking out across the Nobi Plain from Mount Ikeda around 7 pm

On a weekday afternoon, I picked out a baumkuchen at Ikeda Onsen Roadside Station. Having a little treat ready before heading up the mountain gives me one more thing to look forward to that night. Around 7 pm, I reached the lookout on Mount Ikeda and readjusted my scarf. Across the plain, all those lights were already glowing.

At first, all I could see were bright points of light. But after gazing for a while, I started to see the lines: a road running straight ahead, patches of darkness, and the town spread out between them. The nearby mountain's dark silhouette lay below, giving me a sense of how far away the lights were. I looked to the right, and the view just kept going.

I held the paper-wrapped baumkuchen in both hands and looked at its layered cross-section. I focused on it just long enough to bring it to my mouth; after one bite, I looked back at the night view. Looking at the lights with the sweetness still on my tongue is a different kind of pleasure from seeing the plain by day. I'm glad I brought it in small pieces today.

I tried taking a photo, but the lights looked much less expansive on the screen than I expected. When I looked up, the town stretched much farther across the plain. I gave up on fitting everything into the frame and decided to remember what I could see right then. This time spent with the night view is something I want to take home, too.

I put the empty paper away and tucked the ends of my scarf into my jacket. On the way home, I'd be driving into the very lights I'd just been looking down on. Thinking that one of those roads would take me home made me curious about the roads I'd take after coming down the mountain, too. I had something to look forward to all the way home.