Eleven Rings: A Legacy Found in Earth
Fayetteville, TN
2025, Senior, Creative Writing
My grandmother wore eleven rings every day of my life. Grandpatty didn’t wear rings on her thumbs. This meant that her eight-remaining long, slender fingers with always-chipped but painted nails were double and triple stacked with diamond-studded silver and gold bands. I can still feel her cold-to-the-touch rings around my body when we hugged and hear them clink together as she excitedly used her hands to talk about her most recent adventures. She was attached to her rings, and I was attached to her. Attached in the same way that tree roots attach around dirt and rocks – the trees unable to survive without the strong foundation. Grandpatty was my rock. Unfortunately, even rocks don’t last forever.
Born from Appalachian parents who were raised in dirt-floor homes, Grandpatty was the first in her family to graduate high school. She graduated college just before she turned forty. That is when she collected her rings. Her proof that she was no longer dirt-floor poor and that she was in charge of her future. Grandpatty later retired as a US Army Civilian Business Chief, a testament to her determination to change her world.
Two years ago, we buried her wearing her plain gold wedding band but distributed her other ten rings to the family, just as she requested. Little consolation to my shattered heart, I had the honor of receiving a dainty silver ring with diamond chips that I wear on my right hand. I feel the weighted band spin on my finger, and memories flood in. Memories of playing “nail salon,” giving Grandpatty messy manicures before spending the rest of the day jumping hay bales and going on “adventure walks.” Memories of painting her nails the day she was diagnosed with life-ending cancer. The memory of painting her long, strong nails for the last time. She was gone, and in her last moments at home I carefully painted them her favorite deep red, holding her soft hand and the paint filled brush as steadily as possible through shaky, tear-filled breaths.
In my grief, I’ve found comfort in nature. I watch the natural cycle of life and death and curse it for the pain it causes me, but admire its beauty, nonetheless. How it effortlessly connects us to the Earth, supporting the next generations. I’m grateful that I get to see this firsthand. I frequently hike, dance barefoot in the grass, sculpt clay I collect from our creek and paint nature scenes on rainy days. I lay reading in our hammock, gazing up at the twisting trees supporting me and am reminded of family. How the two trees from one trunk shoot upwards, supporting and intertwining around each other – the smaller tree striving to be as big and tall as its mother, or maybe its grandmother. I sit and inspect the crystals formed in the creek rock, amazed at the perfect circumstances that had to have taken place for them to form and me to find them. And my mind circles back to those perfect crystals on Grandpatty’s hand. Crystals perfectly curated from the earth, into the ring, onto her fingers, and now onto mine.
My connection to the earth and the past runs deep. From my front yard, I can trace my way to my great-great-great grandparents, who settled in our tiny, remote area. I wander from field to field, following fences built by decades of hands. I can lay on the ground and feel the vibrations of my ancestors working the ground. Those vibrations calm me. Breathing the mossy air, reading next to the slate-rock creek and wandering through the hay-grass fields are what bring me joy.
But that joy is at risk. Family farms like mine face an uncertain future. Climate change, soil degradation, water quality, biodiversity loss, pollution and invasive species are not news headlines, but daily concerns around our dinner-table. Limited resources and lack of access to sustainable farming practices impacts our productivity, sustainability, and economic viability. Most devastatingly, my precious Grandpatty died of the rare and aggressive Triple-hit Lymphoma, likely attributed to life-long exposure to unsafe farming chemicals.
I will save families and farms like mine through the study of environmental science. My dream is to research and develop safe, bio-based alternatives to the harmful chemical pesticides and fertilizers that currently threaten both human health and the environment – the very chemicals that likely silenced those strong, ring-laden hands that once nurtured our land. This involves exploring the potential of natural compounds derived from plants, bacteria, and fungi to control pests and enhance crop growth. I envision a future where farmers have access to effective, eco-friendly tools that protect their crops, their families, and the delicate ecosystems they depend on, ultimately breaking the cycle of dependence on hazardous chemicals and fostering a healthier, more sustainable agricultural landscape – a landscape where future generations can thrive, their own hands, adorned with rings or not, working in harmony with the earth, just as Grandpatty always hoped.
Grandpatty changed the shape of her family tree – my family tree. A tree that winds and twists and reaches. A tree my granddaughter will one day lie beneath, stare up at, and think about what led to her being able to lounge under its shade. Now I, too, wear several rings on each hand. Like her, my rings clink together as I excitedly use my hands to talk about the powerful mix of freedom and responsibility I soon face. With my ring-heavy hands, I will change the world. A world that was once hers and is now mine.
Reflection
Reflection
The daily rhythms of farm life—caring for animals, tending the garden, and simply existing within the embrace of the natural world—have shaped not only my daily routine but also my innermost being. My childhood memories are filled with the scent of hay, the feel of earth between my toes, and the quiet solace of "adventure walks" through the woods. These experiences, coupled with the values of resourcefulness and respect for the environment instilled in me by my family, became the heart of this essay. My grandmother, whose memory is woven throughout the piece, was a powerful inspiration. Her eleven rings, symbols of her resilience and determination, became a tangible representation of the legacy she left behind. The essay itself became a medium to explore this legacy, to trace the thread connecting her journey from an Appalachian dirt-floor home to a distinguished career, and how that journey inspires own passion for environmental change. The theme "Connections to Nature: Looking Inside, Going Outside," captures my appreciation for the interconnectedness between our inner lives and the natural world. The act of writing this essay became a journey inward that mirrored my explorations outward, into the fields and forests that have always been my sanctuary. My message is that we are all connected to nature, and the health of our planet is inextricably linked to our own well-being. Just as my grandmother's legacy lives on through me, so does our responsibility to protect the earth for future generations. We must find a balance between human needs and environmental sustainability, embracing innovation and technology while honoring our land. By looking inside ourselves, recognizing our deep connection to nature, and taking action—whether big or small—we can create a healthier, more sustainable future.