All That Glittered Was Gold and Rainbows

When I was in college, long, long, ago, I was standing in line at the cafeteria when a rainbow appeared in the field across the street. 

I mean the rainbow was right there, in the field. You could see it's end touching the ground and it was so near you could almost touch it yourself.

Some of us ran like fools, out of the cafeteria, across the road and into the field. The rainbow retreated a little further away with each stride we took. But it was still so close you could almost touch it. Almost.

Of course we never did catch the rainbow nor did we find a pot of gold in the field where it had touched down.

Twenty years or so ago Leon and I saw some gold rings in a shop - I think it was in Portsmouth, New Hampshire or possibly in Provincetown, Massachusetts - I don't remember where we first saw the rings by this particular artist, George Sawyer, because they were available in both locations. 

We both coveted those rings which are very beautiful being made of layered gold which looks like wood grain. 

The gold-smithing technique, after the art of Japanese sword-making, is called Mokume Gane. Here are a few examples of George Sawyer's work:

Back then the rings went for around $800 each. Which was more than we could afford. We started saving up though, and when we had saved about $1000, we decided to buy an RV instead. Much more fun and practical.

The next time we had saved some money for our rings the price-tag had gone up to around $1,200. But we put all of our savings toward the house we now live in. Much more sensible and practical.

We pretty much gave up the idea of getting gold mokume gane rings after that, but we still used to "visit" our rings whenever we went to Ptown or Portsmouth. 

Each visit, however, saw the price increase to $1,500, then $1,800 to the current $2,500 - $4,000!

Needless to say, these rings are further out of reach now than when we first saw them. 

Kind of like trying to chase a rainbow. And we still have more pressing and practical needs.

(c) FrankDeFrancesco/End of Trail Productions