The sunlight reflected from the radomes, making the radar site visible from afar. I came to this country from a land of many trees. In the autumn I had spent afternoons on the Blue Ridge Parkway viewing the multitude of colors provided by the trees as they dropped their bountiful supply of leaves. Now I stood on a mountainside with my jaw dropping in awe of the totally different view below. Irrespective of the fact that there were no trees, I was most amazed by all of the fresh water that puddled throughout the landscape. Of course, I had expected an abundance of sea water. I was on a peninsula, wasn’t I? One of my first thoughts was, “Gee, I might not need to carry water with me on my hikes.” Our thoughts are interesting, aren’t they? We see things through our own personal prisms. I had been a hiker since the age of five or six.
Looking out at the domes of the radar site, I reflected upon how small it was in comparison to the sea and the rest of the panorama. Then I thought about how, in the large scheme of things, I was tiny and insignificant. Since that day on the side of Frosty, I have sometimes forgotten that fact. To pull myself back to reality, I make myself remember this exact view. No exaggeration. This really is the one scene in my life that has had the greatest impact that way. Thank you, Frosty!