R. found these plastic Folger’s coffee cans put to good purpose in the village.
Last Sunday was Maine Maple Sunday, seems to happen every year, when folks go around watching sapping operations, and if they’re lucky, sampling fresh maple syrup on pancakes. You can zigzag through the woods on snowshoes peering into buckets, and there’s always something to see, something to stumble on. As in this picture, when we had no intention of finding sapping, buckets on trees, anything. And if you go through woods on snowshoes there may ever be a sense of uncertainty in those being guided. Somehow you manage to win your way back home, but this may not reassure them for the next excursion — will they really trust you again? And, if you’re a writer, what about readers, if they sense something like this going on in your work?
In the village behind the academy.