By Chelsea Franchi
We had our scale certified last week, which was just one more reminder of the ever-present fact that harvest is barreling down on us (no pun intended).
Harvest is what we live for (well, work for) here in the cellar. It is the hub of the winemaking cycle. Without harvest, what would we do the rest of the year? Harvest is, without a doubt, the most exciting time of year for me. It's exhausting, exhilarating, and stimulating. You really get to know the people you work with during harvest (to everyone I work with: my most sincere apologies). With everyone being pushed to their limits mentally and physically, you're bound to let your true colors show. That's part of what makes harvest so exciting - getting the opportunity to push yourself and becoming familiar with your own breaking points. While most people would look at that as a negative (and I can understand why), it's one of the many reasons I love my job as much as I do: it's challenging, in every sense of the word. And I like that.
The start of this year is even more testing. The lab equipment was dusted off and fired up last week to start running numbers on fruit samples (mostly for Patelin fruit) and Neil and Ryan are off in France. Which means, those of us who are left here have the opportunity to own the cellar (for a few weeks, at least). And by all accounts, it looks like we're more than up to the challenge.
We've been checking numbers (sugar, pH and total acidity) and tracking the progression of said numbers. The presses are clean and ready and the sorting table and must pump are both lying in wait. Picking bins have been brought out from storage and for the early part of this week, we're focusing on sanitizing barrels and tanks so they will be ready for the new juice of 2012.
It's nice to have these rituals before the full force of harvest smashes down around us - the misty fall mornings spent chugging coffee as the first bins of fruit pull onto the crush pad, driving a forklift through the silence of night with only two tiny headlights and the stars to light the way, the incessant squishing of my water-logged boots, the hammering sound of fruit raining down onto the sorting table. The wet heat of a fermenting tank and the thick, rich smells of grape juice evolving into wine. Lead-heavy exhaustion replaced by buoyancy the second the stereo is cranked up (Journey, please!). Climbing into the press after its first use of the season - and for that matter, climbing into the press after its last use of the season. And what harvest mosaic would be complete without those six beautiful words spoken at the end of an impossibly long day: "Hey, who could use a beer?"
It would be interesting to see how my co-workers would arrange their harvest montage, but this is my view. These are the snapshot experiences I look forward to every year. I'm ready.