I like to leave beads. Maybe along with a tip, or perhaps cast them into the woods anticipating the delight they would foster upon their discovery in the distant future. I had stumbled upon this poem years ago - and have attached tags to beads with this printed on the tag.

Now the blue bead lies
In a sandy place
Where the winter weeds
All look like lace
and the gopher sits
With the sun on his face.
Looking out over the desert land
While eagles drop shadows
on the hot white sand.

If you find it please take care
Not to leave it just anywhere
For the boy named Boy
Would be happy to know
That his bead goes with you
Wherever you go.
by Byrd Baylor Schweitze