"Christine! Christine! Where are you?" Kanute's anxious voice rang out at the same time as the back door loudly banged shut behind him, bringing me running.

"Terrible news. I've lost my wedding ring!"

"Lost? What do you mean? How?" I fought my disbelief with a shaking head. No... no... no! It couldn't be true. And yet, I knew he wouldn't lie about something like that... not after our ten years together. We'd shared a firm belief our wedding rings were so much more than a symbol of our commitment to each other. They were the key to our partnership in every aspect of our lives; everything we possessed would always be in our joint names... as far ahead as we could see.

He stomped about, telling me how the unthinkable had happened; his miserable face was a sad picture of his feelings about this bitter truth. With each word the sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach grew... in tandem with the ache in my heart.

Next to our dairy, a feed silo perched high on a stand to provide gravity fall for the grain to flow through a funnel into bags at its base. Kanute had been at the top of the attached metal ladder, cleaning out the powdery build-up of grimy dust inside the rim of the top-loading hole. Sticky now with moisture from fogs and heavy dew, in the cleaning process his fingers had become encrusted in a thickening layer.

Without a cloth to wipe hands-on, the trusty jeans sufficed with a good flick of his fingers from time to time to dislodge the finer stuff – until one unfortunate flick saw his wedding ring fly too! High in the air, glinting brightly and bravely in the sun, soaring over the space alongside the silo where a tractor and trailer could usually pass through.

"It disappeared somewhere in our bloody hay shed." Kanute shook his head in disbelief. "Of course, it had to be this bumper year with the shed chock-a-block full, didn't it?"

"A record number..." I murmured, my eyes filling unexpectedly with tears. We'd been so happy - bursting with pride at our success. But that was then. Our despair deepened significantly as we returned to the hay shed for yet another initially hopeful, but finally unsuccessful search in the forlorn hope an extra pair of eyes would make a difference. Confronted with the height of our hay shed and the huge stack outside as well, there was finally nothing left to do but return home for a comforting cup of tea with a large dollop of commiseration added for good measure. Slowly but surely our spirits revived as we reassured each other our treasure would surely be found. Probably be under the next bale he lifted. Could be as soon as tomorrow's feed-out.

Briefly, Kanute's eyes shone as he thought again of the satisfaction he'd felt, placing the last bale he'd carted. I'd been the only one helping him to start with, but there were SO many and our time between milkings was limited. Luckily, our neighbour - with the hugest hands AND strength - was free to work with us for several days.

"That was surely something!" Kanute continued. "SO many we had to stack them outside the shed as well. Remember how they filled more than half the space between the dairy and the hay shed? Over three thousand bales from only four acres of pasture. What a year... what a cut!"

Avoiding the current reality, he took advantage and shelter in a memory we treasured - but never wished to repeat. Our first year of dairying.

"Bit different back then, hey?" We nodded in unison. Truly unforgettable. We were SO poor, we could only afford a small wooden trailer on wooden wheels, able to cart a mere 25 bales at a time, stacked precariously high. Its great bouncy springs and the slope of our land ensured we would lose a large part of the load any time we hit a hole or a bump and there were many of them on the trip back to the shed.

"How much did we cut again? Over 2,000 bales, wasn't it?"

"WELL over!" Kanute blew a hefty sigh and I shook my head; great for our pockets, that one, but murderous for our backs. Youth, grim determination and absolute necessity do have distinct advantages when the going gets this rough.

Reluctantly, we dragged our focus back to the unimaginable loss. For days after Kanute searched high and low – not for the proverbial 'needle in a haystack', but one bright, shiny golden ring tucked away somewhere in the mountain of glowingly golden hay.

"I searched for weeks and weeks - over and over the same area, again and again."

"I know. Me too... every single time I helped with the milking." And remembered only too well how every visitor had a hopeful but luckless look. Even kids were lured into the quest with the promise of $20 to the lucky finder.

"Not bad dough in the late 1970s," I said. "A small fortune for a kid." Every time Kanute lifted a bale of hay to feed out to the stock, he searched again; eternally optimistic it would miraculously be uncovered. But all hopes were consistently dashed.

Months went by and the shrinking stack of hay saw us finally abandon all hope, convinced now it must have been in a bale fed out to the cows, somewhere on our 165-acre farm.

"Or had slid between the bales, to be buried forever in the deep layer of broken-down hay at the bottom of the stack. Hmm... all the loose stuff made the base for the next year's cut. Imagine that; then the ring would have been covered even deeper." Kanute's eyes would sadden once again. The feeling of hopelessness weighed heavily on both of us.

Life went on, but the pale dent in Kanute's finger remained, along with the sad space in our hearts. You don't feel a wedding ring on your finger after a few years of wearing it – and yet you certainly DO feel the loss when it's no longer there. Kanute can surely attest to that.

* * * * * *

Some six months later, on a day no different than any other, he was lifting bales of hay onto the back of the utility to feed out to the cows. Nothing new there – except that in those six months the exposed hay had weathered to a dull brown on the outsides of the bales.

Although the tale is indelible in my mind, he can never resist telling me and anyone else who will listen, the details all over again.

"As I turned back from the ute, ready to lift the next bale, there it was - gleaming cheerfully as it sat patiently on the top of the next bale." His wedding ring! Shock, disbelief, wonder and then the greatest joy flashed by as he studied this unimaginable find. And then he was in the ute, spinning its wheels as he headed back home, engine roaring. The unusual speed, followed by a gravel and dust spreading stop certainly grabbed my attention from whatever I was doing at the time. The hand-waving was unmissable; and then the joy of seeing that wonderful lost prize, glowing as warmly as ever it had, back in place on that rough brown hand, was breathtaking.

"Can you imagine? Felt like a pirate discovering hidden treasure." Kanute always says this as he tells the tale - and grinning from ear to ear - adds, "Struck 'pure gold', didn't I?"

How I wish I could report the lottery ticket we bought in celebration brought equal joy – but it seemed we had received our quota of good luck. It mattered little. We were more than happy to settle for Kanute's most special windfall.

* * * * * *

Right now, it is well over fifty years since that ring acted as the key to unlock our future together through all the ups and downs that Life presents. There's a special comfort in looking at both of our rings in situ where they belong- and recalling that miserable feeling deep inside for the six months one went AWOL.