Spending the afternoon digging a new flowerbed affords a person a lot of time to think. So I did. Having taken due stock of my life, some parallels to scenes in Tolkien's Lord of the Rings struck me. Hence, my thoughts strayed out of space and time as my hands continued to remove sod and crumble dirt. Crumbling a clod, I sensed the presence of an odd object in my gloved hand. I opened it slowly, and, like the scene in which Isildur picks up the Ring after having taken it from the hand of Sauron, the dirt fell away.
But the words I uttered without forethought were those of Bilbo: "What's this? A Ring?"