Getting ready for harvest is really not that hard to do, but still everyone always asks, “are ya getting ready?” “Not much time ‘til harvest, are ya ready?” I think it’s not so much getting things in order as it is mentally preparing yourself for the grueling three and a half months of no free time, no family, no nights out with friends, nothing but an onslaught of fruit and the laundry list of things that have to happen in order to make that fruit into wine. Don’t think that I don’t enjoy my work, I love my work, and that is what keeps me going for the first month, I get into the groove and look forward to that next truckload of grapes to arrive. By October, I start to get tired but am afraid to show any weakness, don’t let the intern see your spirit start to waver, because after all I am the driver of this bus and I know we still have a few more miles before the end of the road. By the end of October I am delirious and punchy, what better holiday than Halloween is there to fuel you to keep going on your crazed mission to squish every last ever-lovin’ grape? Oh then somewhere between Halloween and the pre-Thanksgiving pre-Christmas shopping madness we completely lose our minds, we’ve stopped shaving, stopped with the pleasantries, there are no “good morning’s” or “nice to see you’s” Please and thank you have left and gone by wayside sometime ago, grunts and mumbling have become commonplace. It really will become all we can do to make it to that last press load, then that sweet goodnight kiss of a last barrel down, oh sweet, sweet last barrel down. Near or nearly after Thanksgiving, once that last barrel is filled, I put down my valves and hoses and just walk away. I don’t look back. I clean up of course, but I don’t want to talk “wine” until, at least, some time after Christmas. If anyone asks why my hands are stained that color, I am just a tractor mechanic. Where is the romance you ask? It’s all around us, but right now it’s not for the ones making the wine, it’s for you, all for you. They don’t tell you that part, I’m not afraid to though, I will tell it to you like it is. Don’t get me wrong, I still walk the vineyards tasting and waiting for just the right moment to pick. I still relish that fist rush of free run from the press, tasting the new vintage for the very first time. I still swirl that glass of new wine, trying to pick up on every nuance and promise it holds half hidden. And I still get excited when I smell the inside of a brand new French oak barrel. I do see the romance, just maybe a little later than most. I personally need the toil and drudgery and frustration, without it I don’t think I would enjoy it so much. My guidance counselor was way off!
Comments