I pulled over and shut off the motor on the bike. The hill behind me had already choked off the sun and the only remnants of light were from the remaining scattered rays which were coming from the hill on the other side of the valley. As I walked over to the edge of the lookout, I saw the sun still shinning brightly on a few cottages at the very southern end of Canandaigua Lake.
Looking to the north, I saw Vine Valley and Bare Mountain, legendary home of the Seneca Indians. I watched a lone boat make its way up the lake towards Vine Valley to return home to dock for the night. Further up the Lake, the sun still shone on the northern end of Canandaigua Lake.
The cares of the day just seemed to disappear with the vanishing light and I wanted to stay a bit longer and try to hold on to the moment. The vastness of the space before me and the beauty of the hills and the lake completely filled my mind. Tomorrow wasn’t even a thought. If tomorrow comes, it will come from beyond those clouds which you see floating over the distant hills in the Finger Lakes