As an eagle, weary after soaring in the sky, folds its wings and flies down to rest in its nest, so does the shining Self enter the state of dreamless sleep, where one is freed from all desires.

Anniversary Wine
Louise Foerster




During our honeymoon, my husband and I meandered up the coast of California from Los Angeles to San Francisco with no plan other than to indulge ourselves with great food and wine and interesting sights. We’d get up in the morning, decide what we wanted to do for the day, and then I would call ahead for a reservation at a bed and breakfast. Some days we drove for hours. We toured centuries-old adobe churches where birds nested high in the rafters and you could see the sky through the ceiling. Other days, we hiked in cool, dim forests or along golden fields near the ocean.


One particular day, for the first time, I had trouble getting a reservation that night. The guidebook praised a particular bed and breakfast and had given it the highest rating so I really wanted to stay there. Unfortunately, there was a corporate retreat in-house and they were booked solid. “However,” paused the sweet young voice on the phone, “there is a new place that just opened up down the road. You could see if they have a room.” She gave me the number and wished me good luck. As luck would have it, they had a room available for the night.

We arrived that evening just before 5:30. An elegant, white-haired woman in a sweeping, floral silk dress showed us to our room. She explained that every suite was named for a famous actor and that we were getting the largest, the Douglas Fairbanks suite.

“Dinner is being served at 6:00. We do hope you’ll join us down in the parlor to start your evening. My name is Deidre. Let me know if there is anything at all I can do to make your stay perfect for you.”

We unpacked quickly, changed our clothes, and headed down the ornately-carved oak staircase. Downstairs, we heard voices from a small room near the front door and joined the other couple. Deidre handed us each a crystal glass of Chardonnay, poured a glass for herself, and proposed a toast to the evening ahead.

The other couple, Lynn and Steve, raised their glasses. “To our fiftieth anniversary!” We toasted them and wished them many more years together.

“And to our first week anniversary!” we laughed. “May we have years together!”

Dierdre excused herself to join her husband, our chef, in the kitchen.

When she returned, we were led into an oak-paneled dining room with five tables covered in snowy white damask tablecloths. Dierdre showed Lynn and Steve to a table near the fireplace because Lynn felt a chill. We took seats near the French doors, hung with generous drapes, leading to a stone terrace. Vivaldi played quietly in the background.

Dierdre’s husband, Mark, a huge, dark-bearded man in chef’s toque and immaculate apron, strode through an upholstered door into the dining room. “I understand there are anniversaries here tonight. For you, I have prepared a magnificent meal!”

Behind him Dierdre carried a small silver tray with six tiny, crystal glasses filled with amber liquid. “For the anniversaries, all the anniversaries—past, present, and to come!” She placed a glass before each of us, handed one to her husband, and raised her own.

The meal was one of the best my husband and I have shared during our twenty-five years of marriage, and we toasted each other many times that night. Lynn and Steve smiled at us fondly, asked us questions about New York City where we lived, and told us about their grandchildren. We wished Deidre and Mark the best of luck with their dream of owning a successful bed and breakfast.

Every anniversary since we have opened a special bottle of amber anniversary wine to toast our good fortune in having each other and so many wonderful memories to cherish.