The other day, wanting to be surrounded by nothing but the sounds of the season, undisturbed by anyone—I took a drive to Lake Tanuki! | Autumn Leaves | Mt. Fuji | iPhone | Photography

Autumn colors in a mirror, the breath of Fuji — A serene drive to Lake Tanuki 🚗

There are moments when you just want to touch the silence, aren't there? Wanting to be undisturbed by anyone, listening only to the sounds of the season, and letting my heart rest—guided by that feeling, I headed to Lake Tanuki, tucked away in the depths of Fujinomiya.

The sky was clear as far as the eye could see, and the light brushed against the earth like 'transparent threads.'
As I drove through that light, I felt my heart slowly beginning to unwind.

🍂 Prologue: Weaving light, a golden tunnel

The prefectural road leading to the lake felt like a path connecting reality and a dream.
When I opened the window, the scent of the cold forest and the savory aroma of dry fallen leaves drifted in softly.

Before long, a row of larch trees dyed in gold appeared.
Bathed in the morning light, each leaf shone like a grain of fire.
It was truly a 'tunnel woven from light.'

I pulled the car over and turned off the engine.
The sound stopped completely.
The wind brushes the trees, and leaves fall.
It's just that, yet why is it so beautiful?

🗻 The mirror lake — Between reality and fantasy

When I arrived at Lake Tanuki, I held my breath.
The surface of the lake was without a single ripple, like a perfect mirror.
Reflected there was an inverted Mt. Fuji—.

The thin clouds wrapping the summit were dyed gold, and the autumn-colored trees gently framed its form.
Even though it was a real scene, it felt somewhat fantastical,
as if 'another world' was breathing within the lake.

I sat on a bench and took a sip of warm coffee.
The chirping of birds, the sound of water, the rustling of the wind—
everything melted into one within the silence,
and it spread quietly into the depths of my heart.

🍁 Enjoying the sounds, a 4-kilometer walking path

As I walked along the promenade that circles the lake, I listened intently to the sounds.
Underfoot, the fallen leaves crunched softly, 'crunch, crunch,'
and that rhythm overlapped with my heartbeat, as if I were breathing in sync with nature.

From a campsite in the distance, I could hear the laughter of a family.
Even those bright voices did not break this silence,
but rather resonated gently as part of the scenery.

Looking back, the red and orange of the autumn leaves, and the snow-capped Fuji,
painted a stunning contrast under a single sky.
It was a moment that felt like walking between seasons,
a little bittersweet, yet fulfilling.

🌅 Epilogue: Thank you for this fleeting brilliance

The sun tilted to the west, and the lake surface slowly dyed into an amber hue.
The autumn leaves caught the sunset, releasing their final light.
In that moment, it was as if the whole world was wrapped in gold.

Eventually, night arrived, and the light and color quietly faded away.
But I think—the autumn leaves, the sunset, they are beautiful precisely because they have an 'end.'

There is such a rich and warm time to be found within the silence.
Lake Tanuki was a place that taught me just that.

I hope to encounter the same light and breeze again next autumn.

Driving for a long time by myself was, as expected, a bit tough💦