The Case of the Kamikaze Wedding Rings

Mr. Knitting Sarah and I occasionally tease that if we take off our wedding rings we aren’t married any more. Once in a while my hubby will take his off and spin it like a little top on the table and with grand theatrics including wide eyes and crazy gesticulating I’ll point and shout frantically, “We aren’t married!” Truly, we like each other a lot and have a very good marriage. I don’t know, maybe our collective sense of humor is just weird.

In actuality I have my rings off at least half the time. Between the kids and housework and yard work and the fact that I’m usually at home alone with the kids and the dog, I just take them off so I don’t accidentally destroy them, not that my rings are anything fancy. I have a plain silver band and my very simple engagement ring that has an unspectacular little opal that we picked out at our then local rock shop for less than $50. They aren’t fancy, but I’m sentimental about them, of course. I actually wear the engagement ring atop the band partly to keep it in place as the band can be a little loose depending on how swollen or not swollen my fingers are.

This morning, knowing I had a few hours of sunshine and breezes before another round of rain came through, I went to wash my 4 skeins of finished handspun yarns. I set them to soak while I sprinted around the house cleaning and about 20minutes later I squeezed the excess water from my skeins and piled them in a little basket. Grabbing some hangers, I walked them outside to go about setting the twist and hanging them to dry.

I stopped on our back deck, set down the basket & hangers, and grabbed the first skein. As always, I squeezed the excess water again so as to spray myself with just a bit less water. I looped the wet skein around either wrist and, “Snap!” I snapped my arms apart, setting and evening out the twist. I rotated the skein and snapped it again. And then, again I rotated the skein and I hear, “Snap! Clink, tink, tink…”


It took me a minute to wrap my head around what happened. Still holding the yarn, I tried to figure out what I could possibly have broken off that was metal. To add to the confusion, from the corner of my eyes I’d watched one metal piece fly to my left, bouncing off the deck into the lawn and another hit near my feet to the right and soar off into the raspberry bushes. And then the realization hit me…

“Oh no…”

I hadn’t broken anything. My rings had flown off my finger as I snapped my yarn. Flown off my finger and into the grass and dead leaves.

“You have to be kidding me. How did they fly in opposite directions?!” I thought

With the dread of someone who knows they have to embark on an impossible mission I stood in my spot and tried to recall exactly what I’d seen. It all happened so fast and unexpectedly. I was positive the next person who would see my rings would be the person who hit them with the lawnmower and my stomach lurched. Of course I had no choice. I had to look.

I decided to start with the ring that flew to my left. It had farther to go over the deck and I figured it was pretty likely it had come to rest just off of it. Plus, it had hit a chair on its journey so I had a pretty decent idea of where it might be. I combed the ground and looked carefully for glinting metal so thankful that it was sunny and the metal would reflect. Sure enough, it only took about 5minutes and I’d located my engagement ring in the grass just off the deck.


Unfortunately, I knew the wedding band would be the real challenge. I knew the general angle it went flying, but I had no idea where it landed — it could have been on the grass, it could have been in the dried leaves we left as mulch in the raspberries. It was pretty hopeless and as I crouched down to begin the second half of the impossible mission I cursed the fact that I always bragged at how good I am at finding things. Oh, the irony! The horrible, horrible irony! If it had fallen in that mulch it would be lost for sure. Those leaves are curled and crisp and could easily have slipped beneath to the murky, wet depths never to be seen again.

I got a rake.

I started slowly combing through the leaves. My son came out to help, spent about five minutes looking carefully, and then said the polite 10-year-old version of, “You’re screwed.” I was too distraught to really hear the words. I knew what he meant though.

Beginning to panic, I took a quick break to finish hanging the yarn up to dry. After all, if I’d just lost my wedding band while trying to get this yarn dry I had better dry the darn yarn. I went back to the leaf piles. 20 minutes passed. 30 minutes passed. I crouched down and carefully turned over and pulled out the crispy leaves across the area I thought was possible for the kamikaze wedding band to have landed. I took a deep breath and a chilly breeze made the hair stand up on my arms. A random Veery landed not 5 feet away, looked at me for a few seconds, and flew off. I’ve never seen this bird in the yard and I’d have never been able to ID it except my hubby & I had spotted one Wednesday on a family hike. This surreal appearance made me stop and stare for a minute. Giving up hope, I started to replace the leaves.

I finished cleaning up the leaves and with a heavy heart turned, still crouching, and surveyed the grassy area between the deck and raspberries. Hopeless.

And there was my wedding band.

For those who think knitting & spinning is boring and uneventful, now you know that you’re wildly mistaken. It’s full of action, adventure, heartache. It’s fraught with peril and the highest of stakes and kamikaze jewelry. If I hadn’t found the ring, would I still be married? Thank goodness that Veery visited the yard, the sun was shining, and I found that ring.