I found these tiny pieces of wood along the Erie Canal foot path this morning in Brockport, New York. Each one is no bigger than a credit card. Each is 1/4 inch thick, and pine, I think. I kept hoping there would be more—a sort of Hansel and Gretel bread crumb trail leading to some final profound epiphany, but there were only these two tiny notes, written on both sides of the pine. The only person I passed on the canal path was a large man on a three-speed bike with sunglasses and a dark moustache who did not return my "hello."
Was this some sort of apocalyptic doomsday warning?
Performance art?
Guerrilla politics?
* * * * *
* * * * *
I want to respond in kind. This person had obviously taken such care by sawing the little pieces of pine into nice even cuts, writing the messages in permanent marker in a passionate scrawl, dropping them randomly along the path over a nearly five-mile stretch.
I think I'll leave a trail of fortune cookies leading to the nice open clearing by the cottonwood tree where you can see the cabbage just beginning to peek up. There, I'll have a small table set with a splendid meal of bread and cheese, strawberries and kiwis, and a pair of binoculars for clear viewing.
.jpg)
