Several years ago I went on an Outward Bound-type wilderness adventure. For those who haven't had the opportunity to connect with Outward Bound or anything like it, it's an intense 3 to 4-week backpacking trip in the unpopulated areas of our country. My trip took place in the wilds of the Upper Peninsula of Michigan during the fall, a beautiful time to be outdoors since there are relatively few bugs and the temperatures are generally below sweltering level.

While there were many things I learned during the course of my adventure, including that when the instructor says not to drink stream water without boiling it (even if it is cold, clear and LOOKS delicious), she's right and not listening to her leads to all kinds of future problems, one of the lessons that has stuck with me for years since my trip came from a simple walk in the woods.

For anyone who loves to hike, there's hiking and then there's HIKING. Hiking means packing a light snack and a bottle of water, bringing the dog along and enjoying an afternoon in a nice park area. HIKING (especially in one of these adventures) includes making sure you have good wool socks to keep hot spots and blisters at bay, broken-in hiking boots, a 35-pound backpack for all the supplies you'll need once you finish for the day and make camp, and the knowledge that you could be on your feet for 15-20 miles and if you take off you shoes when you rest, there's a good chance you won't be able to get them back on again.

After several days of HIKING, our group settled into a routine of sorts. Where we had started out walking next to each other, chatting and observing the area in which we were travelling, after a while we ended up hiking single file, not talking and looking at the feet plodding in front of us instead of at the world around us. We were tired from lack of sleep. We were hungry because we'd been eating dried foods for days. We were sore from days of HIKING.  We were emotionally strung out from wondering what came next.

At one point during our plodding, a day when I was at the back of the line, I just happened to look up and hanging above the head of the person in front of me were apples. In a Johnny Appleseed way, a small tree had taken root and was growing in the middle of the wilderness. I looked at the apples still recall the incredulousness with which I whispered, "Apples," bringing an immediate halt to the hike. The fresh fruit was such a welcome treat for a group that had been eating dried food for so long and renewed our spirits and energy.

I've carried that experience with me for all these years. In these tough economic times it's so easy to get in the mode of keeping our heads down, watching the feet in front of us and just plodding along, waiting for the time when things will be better. Unfortunately, when we do that we miss the small gems that life puts in front of us to enjoy.