Julie had just gotten back from a business trip to Japan that morning. Her two-week absence had given me a chance to plan something fairly elaborate, and had left her fairly tired and perhaps unsuspecting. When we arrived at our room in mid-afternoon, an arrangement of 42 red roses and one white rose was waiting in the room. A card on the arrangement explained that there was one rose for each month that we have been together so far, and hinted that there were surprises to come.

We took a late afternoon walk along the ocean near Lovers Point, before going to dinner. At the end of our walk, I gave her a small card and gift. I explained that I had a series of gifts in the bag I was carrying. Throughout the evening, I would give her gifts from the bag, one at a time. Each gift came with a card, and each card had three lines of text; the first two gave a hint about what this gift was, and the third gave a hint about the next gift. I also told her that some of the gifts might not make sense, but that they were all carefully selected, and fit together. With that, she opened the first card and gift. The gift was a prepaid calling card with a picture of the Pacific Grove/Carmel coastline on it.

We headed off to dinner, at the seafood restaurant on the Monterey Wharf where we had eaten on the first night we met. By chance, we were given a window table, overlooking Monterey Bay, and the sinking sun. Before dinner arrived, I gave here the second card and gift. Opening the gift, she found two crystal wine glasses.

We finished our dinner about half an hour before sunset, and took a brief walk on the Wharf. During our walk, I gave her the third card and gift; a small flashlight.

After this, I suggested we go to the coast in Pacific Grove to watch the sunset. We really like this part of the coast, in Asilomar; it has low rugged rocks, crashing waves, and faces just about straight west. We arrived there just at sunset, in time to see the sun light up the undersides of the few high clouds in the west. I encouraged Julie to get out of the car and watch the sunset with me, but she was initially reluctant, first because she was very tired and second because the typical 35 mph cold wind was blowing off of the ocean. I asked her again, and she agreed.

After a few minutes of exploring, we found a nice rock to sit on, facing the ocean and somewhat out of the wind. We watched the red-orange twilight and glowing clouds for a few minutes, then I gave her the final card. It simply said "A moment for which pen and paper are inadequate..." She was confused at first and wondered what that could mean, but cleared up after I asked her if she would marry me. After a silent 30 seconds, a hug, and a kiss, I asked her again (I assumed that her actions meant "yes," but it's one of those situations where it's better not to make any assumptions).

We held each other and watched the twilight for a few more minutes, then went back to the car and our room. I explained what the gifts were for; the phone card was for her to call her parents in China from our room, the wine glasses were for a toast, and the flashlight was so she could see the ring in case we didn't get to the oceanfront until after it was fairly dark. The single white rose in the arrangement of red roses was for one special month; this month.

After a toast, Julie called her parents to tell them the news. We enjoyed the remainder of our weekend, celebrating with Sunday dinner at a nice restaurant in Carmel before we headed back home.

Now, we're busily planning our wedding, to be held this autumn along the coast a few miles south of there, in the Highlands Inn.