Raq, I've seen a lot of writers refer to The Golden Bough by Frazer, although it looks like it is about lots of different mythologies, not just English.

jewelry

Money had better things to do than rings when we got married, so I dug in my jewelry box for a nice ring that fit. That ring has been on my finger so long there's a deep groove in my finger. A proud scar that speaks more of my wedded state than any jewelry.

Fifteen years after the wedding, we finally got matching rings. Cheap silver Celtic interlace we spotted one day at our favorite occult store. We had the money, we had the thought, we had the rings. No ceremony, but for the next few months we'd knock rings together and grin.

The small silver open-work medallion is a Celtic dragon. I don't remember when I put it on, I rarely bother to take it off. Provincial locals stare at it and look uncertain.

"Is that Arabic?" one asked suspiciously.

"Celtic interlace," I say again.

"What's that?"

I thought of taking the necklace off, then decided I'd rather open minds, one small explosion at a time.

Promise

I don’t do jewelry.

It’s odd, considering my taste for haute couture and five-star hotels. My metal allergy’s a contributing factor, but the truth is, I look at most jewelry and my reaction is a polite “very pretty” and inner incomprehension. I appreciate the workmanship, but the rest leaves me elsewhere.

The one exception is the three-ring set on the third finger of my left hand. That set stays where it is.

I got neither the ring - nor its underlying promise - the first love around. You’ll get this one off my hand when you take the hand from the arm.

This category is producing great drabbles!

Jewellery drabble:

I grew up in a town where huge, gold earrings and a ring on every finger was the fashion and still is today. I made this look my own, until it no longer suited me. Eventually, I replaced gold hoops and ruby rings with dangling silver earrings and a platinum and sapphire ring. The ring is antique I bought for myself when I graduated from high school. I wore it everyday, until it became too small for my finger. I currently wear no rings and one of three pairs of delicate, marcasite earrings, each pair a thoughtful gift of love.

Thanks, Ouise! I do have the abridged version of that (and have poked around in the unabridged) and it's useful.

As I'm looking, it turns out that I know more about British myth and folklore than I thought I did, but there are some vasty pools of ignorance.

Cereal for drabble

The seashells that were your necklace lie on your chest in a row, even though the sinew thong rotted long since. You were buried 2000 miles from a coastline – did you migrate here, come to this desert to die? Or did you trade for the shells, offering the finest squash and beans for something you couldn’t eat? Perhaps your husband gave you the necklace. Perhaps it marked your status. What did it mean, this seashell necklace?

I may not know your life, gone these 2000 years, but I touch my own necklace of turquoise and coral, & I know you.

Raq, that's beautiful.

Is the repetition of "long since" accidental, in the first sentence?

What repetition of "long since?"

Psst everyone, Cindy's craxy!

Um, no. Last-minute edits in the posting box. Thanks.

Like one more iota of craxy would be obvious on me.