Rule #32: Enjoy the Little Things.

The movie Zombieland provides a very useful list of rules to help one survive a zombie apocalypse. These rules also seem to apply to surviving the Appalachian Trail. After getting second-degree burns in sub-freezing weather, I can attest that “a little sunscreen never hurt anybody.”  After seeing another hiker’s photo of a snake inside a privy, I’d say that “beware of bathrooms” is applicable as well. My 30-function “Swiss Army Knife” is the best thing I brought with me, but ultimately the most important zombie/AT rule is

Of course, there are many big things to enjoy on the AT: Spectacular views…

I take a lot of panoramas. This one is from Sinking Creek Ridge.

Close encounters with wildlife…

Like this white-tailed deer! (I still haven’t seen a black bear)

The mindblowing realization of how far I have already walked…

I would walk 1,000 miles and I would walk 1,000 more…

The ATC headquarters in Harper’s Ferry is the ceremonial halfway point, although a bit short of the actual midpoint.

But I set out on the AT, in part, so that I would live simply and better appreciate things I once took for granted.  Each day, there is some little thing that I am grateful for:

A delicious, stove-less meal…

Tortilla, cheese, pepperoni, bell pepper, and habanero salsa.

The first signs of spring on the top of a ridgeline…

Despite my 30-pound pack and angry knees, I jumped for joy.

Claritin and Advil that double as poker chips…

It isn’t what it looks like; I promise.

Trail Magic on Easter…

Pure, clear, mountain spring water…

(I didn’t actually drink this water, but it was more picturesque than the springs I usually drink from).

The list goes on and on.

A week ago, I found myself taking a break at a lower elevation, amidst an abundance of vegetation and a medley of birdsongs.  I suddenly recalled Aaron Copeland’s orchestral suite Appalachian Spring, so I pulled out my phone and listened to it.  I felt as if that song, composed seventy years ago, was written just for that moment.

In the seventh movement, Copeland borrows a melody from the Shaker folk song “Simple Gifts.”  I don’t know the original meaning of that phrase, but to me, “simple gifts” are “the little things.”  They are the things I appreciate now that I never noticed before, along with the things I am experiencing for the first time.  Somewhere in between the life of an Appalachian pioneer and that of a zombie apocalypse survivor, I can relate to the folk song and to the list of rules as I increasingly appreciate the little things: the simple gifts.