Phil and I have always been night owls, so when he first started waking up at 7am to go hiking, I would give him a bleary eyed glance then yawn, roll over, and fall back into a contented sleep until a more reasonable hour.  Despite my early skepticism, he has stayed committed to the new routine, and my guilty conscience has induced me to wake up with him, if only to sneak in a few more hours of work.  I have come to appreciate the extra daylight, but have yet to find the same enthusiasm for the exercise.  However, after several sedentary rainy days this week my legs were itching to move, so I finally accepted the invitation to join my husband on his morning hike up Cowell’s Mountain.

I had made the hike many times before – often on a relaxing afternoon – but never following a rainstorm.  The usually sun bleached terrain was mottled with patches of rich brown mud and vibrant red clay.  The dry, sandy landscape had exploded with the bright green of new growth.  Trickling down the trail was a small river of water that settled into pools on the flatter stretches, and I strained my eyes expecting to see little crayfish darting between the rocks.  The transformation was magical.

I consider a hike up Cowell’s to be a value inherent experience.  The very act of walking around in nature, feeling the sun’s warmth on your shoulders, listening to bird conversations, and spotting timid brown lizards in the undergrowth is all pleasurable and wholesome in it’s own right.  The extraordinary experience of a rain soaked mountain is what I would consider value enhanced – more vivid, more intense, but with nothing that detracts from the simple goodness of a nature walk.

I think most of us can agree that there is inherent value in a loaf of fresh baked artisan bread.  It is simple and wholesome, and unless you have an unreasonable fear of carbohydrates, is something you will gladly pay a premium price for.  That value becomes enhanced by the addition of flavorful ingredients such as herbs, fruit, nuts, and cheese.  I expect to pay more for a loaf of fig and anise bread than I would for a humble loaf of white bread.

In the food industry they use the term “value added” to categorize raw commodities that have been combined in such a way that they are now worth more than the sum of the individual parts.  Fruit is value added when it is canned, dried, or used to make jellies or jams; almonds are value added when they are roasted, flavored, or used in a trail mix.  It seems like a good system, the consumer pays more money for the expertise of the producer and the convenience of ready made or quick cooking food.

The disappointment for me is that value added is not consistently value enhanced.  A compilation of cheep ingredients will still be touted as a specialty product.  Seemingly innocent whole wheat breads and “all natural” jellies and jams may contain high fructose corn syrup from genetically modified plants.  Fortified cereals with whole grain wheat and almonds contain a laundry list of artificial sweeteners and preservatives.  The added value to the producer is getting the consumer to pay more for inferior ingredients.

Even in the best of times, we all want to get the most bang for our buck.  In trying to select a jar of tomato sauce for my weekend lasagna, I had to choose between an $8 jar from a small label made with a handful of real organic ingredients, and the numerous name brand organic jars priced between $3.99 and $5.99 with value added ingredients I didn’t want.  I couldn’t justify the price tag of the former, and wouldn’t consume the contents of the latter.  For me the best choice was to take the time to make a simple sauce of my own.  With a $2.99 can of organic tomato puree, $1.50 in onions and garlic from the farmers’ market, and maybe $.50 worth of oil, herbs and spices from my pantry, I was able to strike a tasty balance that was pleasing to both my wallet and my conscience.