The Harvest Widow Primer
Hey all, Patrick’s wife, Erin, i.e., Harvest Widow in Chief, here. Every year, starting around mid-August, I begin fielding questions regarding my impending harvest widow status. It used to be that these queries would come from sympathetic friends and family who wanted to be sure I was emotionally prepared for this seasonal separation. Anymore though, it’s my friends wanting to know when we can hang out since harvest now renders me available and without responsibility until the cows come home (or, in our case, until the ducks need to be put to bed).
Summer 2004, with my future family. Before I even knew the term “harvest widow”.
I was first asked to write this guide way back in 2011 after I’d graduated from B-school and moved back to the farm for the summer. We were living down the road in a cute little cottage nestled among the grapevines of then-Ramseyer vineyard. It was as bucolic as you might imagine…until the bird cannons went up right outside our bedroom window. Talk about waking up on the wrong side of the bed…for months. The boys thought it would be fun to share an alternative perspective of harvest, and I was happy to provide my usual unfiltered viewpoint. It’s gone through a couple iterations over the last decade, but in all honesty, harvest widow life mostly remains the same. The only difference is…dare I say…I kind of look forward to it? };-)
So, should you find yourself contemplating life as a wine person’s partner, might I offer you the following insight. I’m also available for one-on-one consultations and commiseration for the very reasonable price of a glass of wine.
Harvest widowdom is not for the faint of heart. If you are a light sleeper, spiral into a rage blackout upon seeing muddy foot/pawprints in the house, or look forward to sharing every meal with your partner (or seeing them at all), this might be not be the most ideal life for you. On the other hand, if you have a penchant for casseroles or one-pot Dutch oven cooking, have successfully slept through the night at a budget airport hotel, and revel in nights to yourself with a bottle of wine and your favorite streaming service, you might stand a chance.
As a novice HW, I used to loathe the changes that came with ripening grapes. The excessively early alarms, the incessant calls from high-maintenance winemakers, the inability to commit to fun plans from August-November. Overall, I have made peace with it. Despite all its inconveniences, you can’t not appreciate harvest. This is the time money is made. This is what pays for boating and the much-anticipated vacations that are never frequent nor long enough. This is how we make a living. (And we are how Dyson makes theirs.) Though I must admit, I still marvel at Pat’s impeccable timing for returning home at the exact moment after I finish sweeping/mopping the floor. It’s uncanny.
If you’re new to this life, don’t despair. It’s not too late to sever your relationship and, say, date a web developer. They can work from home (though that comes with a whole new set of inconveniences). They won’t track mud through your home (unless they drag their stand up paddle board through a tidal flat). You won’t have to ride in a pickup covered in dust, dog hair, empty coffee cups, pruning shears, and Ziploc bags full of grape clusters. You won’t find strands of flagging tape stuck to your washer drum. You most likely won’t be awakened by weekend phone calls from any of the 1500 people who have his phone number and have a matter SO URGENT that it can’t wait. (Despite my increased tolerance for literally everything else during harvest, one thing remains unchanged: if you are a winemaker and you call before 8 am on a weekend, you are forever going on my shit list. Forever.)
If you are still intent on pursuing this union, I have created the following “Harvest Widow Primer” in hope that my nearly two decade’s worth of experience might save you a little sanity:
CLOTHING (A.K.A. how to avoid having a meltdown every time you do laundry)
A typical Pat pre-harvest Costco run.
Go through the closet and box up any clothes that could potentially be mistaken for “work clothes.” Especially if you like particular pieces- once they hit the farm, they’ll never be suitable for town again. Leave him only with clothes that have somehow avoided the Goodwill pile. He doesn’t need to be fit for public viewing- it’s just going to be him and the other sweaty, grape juice-soaked people in the winery. Do not return the “good clothes” box to the closet until the ground is freezing on a regular basis.
As an alternative, you could purchase a collection of one-time-harvest clothes. Any clothes purchased at Costco or Old Navy meet this requirement. Or, now that Pat is of a certain age, Orvis. Do not form any type of attachment to these clothes as they will be promptly discarded at the end of the season. And by “discarded,” I absolutely mean thrown away. In the dumpster. None of this “one man’s trash is another man’s treasure.” No, just no.
Unidentifiable stains of questionable origin can and will appear on every garment touched by him. Costco sells stain remover. They also sell shirts (see above). BRB, need to Google is OxiClean is publicly traded…
Meals
Staples of any kitchen, harvest widow or not.
Focus on one-pot recipes that improve with age and borderline neglect. Seafood fettucine alfredo is not one of those. Neither is a green salad. Go ahead and write off any dishes that have palate-tantalizing (albeit time-sensitive) textures such as crispy, crunchy, flaky or fluffy. Might I recommend this very delightful take on chicken cacciatore (also perfect if you’re still in the trying-to-impress-one-another phase). Add some Israeli couscous at the end to give it a carby punch, and voilà! You’ve got yourself a hearty meal that can be heated and reheated until your partner finally materializes at home. Should you somehow not own a crock pot/Dutch oven, I will turn my blank stare of disbelief away while you scurry to the nearest home goods store and remedy this problem.
Family
Ideally, they will work with some or all of their family which means you will likely have allies that will be understanding of your predicament. They may even have significant others with whom you can dine (or simply exchange exasperated texts)!
Don’t have children. And if you do, don’t curse them with a harvest birthday. And for the love of our human race, don’t allow your children to witness their wine parent’s work lest they become interested and create a second generation of harvest widows. Unless it’s for the ‘gram. And then, by all means, put those like-generating cherubs to use.
The Dog
After dinner conversation? Don’t be ridiculous.
If you got a dog as a couple, you relinquish your rights to the dog during harvest. Even if it was YOUR dog prior to your relationship, you may find yourself in the same situation. Mastiff, retriever, terrier. Size doesn’t matter. Wine people and dogs go together like tasting notes and bullshit. One simply enhances the other.
Social Events/Date Nights
Haha, hahahahahahaha. You will quickly learn who your true friends are because they will refrain from tempting you with invites to those quintessential events like beer festivals, pumpkin throwing contests, and haunted hay rides. You can either: exist in a cocoon of JOMO for a few months if you are incapable of doing things without your SO or, and this is my recommendation, go solo. Let’s be honest, corn mazes and spiked cider are far more fun with people who are not preoccupied or blinded by the light of their phone checking water orders.
Communication
POV: You married/are dating/are somehow involved with a farmer. (Photo NOT taken during harvest.)
Determine their preferred method. It is highly likely that my texts and emails could be buried by any number of other conversations. But as evidenced by the 5am Sunday phone calls, Patrick will ALWAYS answer unless he is “stuck under a tractor.” I now triage my communication:
Phone: Urgent matters. Emotional ranting that requires a response.
Email: Matters that require thought, consideration, and perhaps a discussion. And a retrievable/referenceable record. Intellectual ranting.
Text: Emotional ranting that doesn’t require a response. The internet. Sharing sub-3 Wordle scores.
In summary, harvest is not inconsequential to a relationship. But at the end of the day, we stick by them because we love them and their passion for their work (and free wine, obviously). We just have to remember that they require a level of attention and care usually reserved for hyperactive puppies. With love, patience and a short-term Rug Doctor rental, you too can enjoy a fulfilling relationship with a wine person.
Are you even married if this isn’t your default couple pose?
So my fellow harvest widows, you are welcome any time for an impromptu support group on my deck. We have wine, after all, and our partners are gone ‘til who knows when.