Laminated it, mounted it on a stake, and placed it just beyond the outer row where the path began to fade into his vineyard. It lasted two days. He found it twisted sideways in the dirt, a fresh shoeprint across the paper.
But instead of heading to the resort right away, he gave people the benefit of the doubt. Maybe they didn’t know better. Maybe if he just explained. The next morning, he spotted a woman in a sunhat wandering through the vines, phone in hand.