New Moon Writing 4: the lost ring

Suzanne bought me a beautiful silver ring for my 50^th birthday from a handcrafted jewellery company called The Roots of Ireland. They claim there’s a connection between “their unique jewellery and the magic and mystery of Ireland’s rich heritage”.  The Roots of Ireland make a donation to the Irish Native Woodland Trust, to preserve and restore Ireland’s woodlands, every time they make a sale.   And on top of it being sustainable, I really liked the ring.

Imagine my horror and disbelief, then, when I lost the ring.

One minute it was on my finger, the next minute it vanished. 

Gone!

I spent ages looking for it all over the garden, and I even emptied out the black, brown, and green bins to see if it had slipped inside one of them.

Eventually, I accepted my loss, and I got in touch with The Roots of Ireland, to buy a replacement ring, so that the next time I saw Suzanne, she wouldn’t view me as a careless friend, who didn’t take care of gifts.  The new ring arrived, I popped it onto my finger, and I continued with my life.

Some people think that making donations to places such as the Irish Native Woodland Trust or to other groups, that try to slow down the climate crisis, as a waste of time.  The Deniers and the Doomers are in unison, in their agreement to do nothing.  They watch the burning, flooding, thawing, and steps towards extinction, and they shrug and say, “what can you do?”

I see it all, and I think, “I’ll do what I can,” which might not be much, but it’s something.

One small thing I do is to “sail and rail” from Dublin to Wales and I love to count the flights that I haven’t taken.  Another small thing is to try and use eco-friendly methods in my garden, which means no chemicals, pesticides, digging or overly interrupting what nature wants to do first.  I’ve much to learn, but the garden is teeming with bees, butterflies, birds, slugs, and snails, which must suggest it’s a little biodiverse. 

The animals are incredible.

For a long time, I was accidentally murdering many snails every time I put foot in the garden.  I would hear the violent squelching of the snail shell underneath my wellies, and I would feel sick from the senseless death.

“Why, God, why?” I would yell out to the sky, but God didn’t hear me.

So, I constructed a small Zen Pathway from the backdoor to the fence at the bottom of the garden, where I could walk confidently, without being involved in killing small creatures.  It seems to be working as there’s nothing of interest on the Zen Pathway, for the snails to eat or do, so they keep away from it, and hang out instead near the organic composter.

I love the baby snails, with their tiny shells, most of all; they’re adorable! 

They have funny little heads on them, and they have no sense of direction at all.  I like to think that they are safer now, away from the mid-garden traffic.

Snails don’t have to mate to reproduce, as they have both sets of genitalia, but they do it anyway, because they like to.  Meanwhile, I sit in the yard and watch the mayhem; and it’s absolutely non-stop!

It’s so beautiful and perfect, and I’d really hate for it all to end. So, I sail and rail, and use sustainable methods on my land, reduce my consumption, sign petitions, go on protests, and join campaigns.  

I want to keep it nice. 

Keep it beautiful and kind. 

I want others to enjoy it too.

One evening last week, I was trying to straighten out some wildflowers after all the rain and wind, and there, at the bottom of the stem of some Ragwort, was the silver ring Suzanne bought for me. 

The ring looked like someone had placed it down carefully.

The only possible explanation for this, was that the Fairies put it there, under the light of the last super moon.  There’s simply no other way to explain it.  Fairies or butterflies, or dancing summer roses found it, and placed it gently there. 

Delighted, I took the new-old ring inside, and put it in its Roots of Ireland box, and I’ll keep it there safely.