Together in the vineyard

Every September, there comes a moment when the same conversation begins in my brother-in-law’s family. Are the grapes ready? Which weekend can everyone come? What does the weather look like? There are work schedules, school and all the usual complications of getting all people into the vineyard at the same time.

But eventually, the grapes make the decision for family. They are ready. And so, once again, we all return to the vineyard. The vineyards belong to my brother-in-law’s family Preiner and sit among the rolling hills of Međimurje, in continental Croatia. I’ve had the pleasure of knowing these rows — and being part of their harvest — for many years now. Every September, family and friends come together to pick the grapes by hand.

But when I think about these days, the grapes are rarely the first thing I remember. I remember the people. Conversations between the rows. Familiar faces gathering around the table. Someone laughing somewhere further down the vineyard. The children running around with the dogs and cats. And yes, plenty of hard work — although somehow that isn’t the part we tend to remember. The grape harvest is a day everyone looks forward to. It takes some planning and a full days/weekends of work, but it is also a day we all gather together.

It brings back old memories while giving us the chance to make new ones. So much in life changes from one year to the next, yet the way we harvest has remained familiar, traditional and centred around the family. The work is still done by hand and shared between us. It is one tradition we have no wish to hurry or modernise because its value lies in being outdoors and doing it by hand and together.

For the older generations, the harvest carries memories of the people who taught them how to work among the vines. For the youngest, it begins with small hands reaching for grapes and by following the adults between the rows until something else catches their attention. The youngest start enthusiastically enough. However, the vineyard becomes something else for them: a playground, a place for races between the rows, running around with dogs & cats, and whatever game they invent next. Watching them return each September, we notice how much they have grown.

The grapes we pick will become wine, but the part we value most is having everyone together in the vineyard. For a day or a weekend, work, school and everyday responsibilities are put aside, and we have time to talk, laugh and work beside one another as we have done for years. And this year, I wanted to share what that day looks like for us.

The evening before

Our harvest really begins when the grapes and nature make the decision its time. There is only so long we can continue discussing dates before someone reminds the rest of us that they are ready and cannot wait another weekend.

The evening before is spent preparing our red crates, scissors and everything else we will need the next day. Much of it waits in the same place where it was left after the previous harvest, ready to be brought out again.

A morning among the vines

On the morning of the harvest, we meet at the vineyard as the day is beginning to warm. If we’re lucky, the sun is with us. Around the vineyard are the open slopes and rolling hills of Međimurje, with rows of vines filled mostly with Pušipel (local name for Furmint, which is cultivated in this area for centuries), Sauvignon blanc, Graševina and few others.

My brother-in-law Darko and his father, who knows these vines better than most of us, has already given his verdict: the grapes are ready. There is always a little organisation at the beginning. We decide who will cover each row, who will bring the empty crates and who will carry the full ones away. The tractor moves through the vineyard with a small hydraulic trailer attached behind it, ready to collect the red crates as they slowly fill throughout the day.

Picking is usually the favourite task of the younger members of the family. Others carry the full crates or load them onto the trailer, while those with the most experience keep an eye on the grapes and decide what is ready to be picked. The dogs consider themselves part of the working team too, although their contribution mostly involves moving between everyone, resting in the grass and waiting hopefully for lunch.

The division of work tends to be similar every year, although everyone joins in wherever they are needed. There are no strict rules and much of it happens spontaneously. As the morning continues, the red crates begin to fill. There is a particular satisfaction in watching the grapes gather inside them, although not every bunch makes it into one without being tasted first.

The best table in the vineyard

By late morning, someone eventually calls for a break. Nobody leaves the vineyard, food comes to us instead. There are cooked sausages and bread, cold cuts, tomatoes and peppers from the garden, ajvar and other homemade food prepared for the harvest. For our snack, we gather around the tractor, setting the food on its bonnet while some of us eat standing and others sit down in the grass.

A bottle of wine from the previous year’s harvest is opened and shared over lunch before we return to the rows. Sitting in the grass with the family and sharing a meal after a morning spent working outdoors has always been part of the harvest for us. It is cherished part of the day just as much as the grapes, the red crates and the work between the rows. Then, eventually, someone gets up. There are still grapes to pick.

Back between the rows

After the break, everyone returns to their place in the vineyard. We work together without many rules, and everyone does as much as they can. The pace may be a little slower than it was in the morning, but by then it is also easier to see how much has already been done. The rows behind us are finished, the trailer is filling and the grapes that covered the vines in the morning are gradually being carried away.

At some point, someone usually suggests a competition to see who can fill the most crates. It is simply another part of the fun. And yes, and sooner or later, someone starts to sing. By the time the next rows are finished, another call comes from the house. Lunch is ready. My brother-in-law’s mother and sisters have prepared the table, and suddenly there seems to be renewed energy in everyone. Tired faces become smiling ones remarkably quickly when homemade food is waiting on the terrace.

It is another table, another gathering — and another part of the day that has very little to do with grapes and everything to do with why we come back. Eventually, however, the final crates are collected. The grapes make their way to the cellar, where a different kind of work begins. Pressing. Fermenting. Waiting. From here, the process requires another kind of knowledge and patience, much of it in the hands of my brother-in-law and his father.

Two generations of winemakers in Preiner family, working side by side. They don’t always agree. One trusts the experience built over decades and countless harvests, the other is more willing to question tradition, experiment and try something new. They discuss how long to press, what to leave untouched, and when to intervene. Each has his own idea of how things should be done. But wine has a way of bringing those differences together.

Two generations, two perspectives, one cellar, and a new vintage, another chapter in the family story. Weeks or months later, someone will eventually pour the first glass. And inevitably, the conversation will return to this day. The part of the harvest that brought all of us together has come to an end for another year.

Until next September…

By the end of the day, the vineyard looks different. The rows that were heavy with grapes that morning are almost empty. The red crates are gone. The scissors and tools are packed away. Soon, everyone will return to work, school and all the routines we left behind for the day. No two harvests are exactly the same. People change. Children grow. New faces appear around the table. Each year brings different conversations, different weather and different memories.

And yet, every September, we find our way back. Perhaps traditions survive not because we work particularly hard to preserve them, but because there are certain things we simply cannot imagine giving up. For this family, and for all of us who have become part of its harvest, this is one of them.

Next September, the questions will begin again. Are the grapes ready? Which weekend can everyone come? What will the weather do? And once again, the grapes will eventually make the decision for us. We will meet back in the vineyard – and we’ll be looking forward to every minute of it.