Harvest 2026. A different one for me this year.

BY MINI BYERS

For the first time in quite a few years, I spent most of harvest away from the vineyards. I missed the early mornings, the picking decisions, the fruit arriving at the winery, the long days that somehow turn into even longer evenings, and the feeling of being physically present for something we spend an entire year working toward.

And I really did miss it.

There is something about harvest that is difficult to explain unless you’ve been a part of it. The anticipation, the exhaustion, the constant watching of the weather, the decisions that feel both enormous and instinctive. The way an entire year of farming comes down to a handful of weeks, and how much trust you place in the people around you and in the land itself.

This year, I experienced much of that from a distance. Through phone calls, photographs, messages, and the recaps I so looked forward to from Morgan and the team at Johan, and Vince and the team at Cowhorn. Hearing what was coming in, how the fruit was tasting, what was surprising them, what they were excited about. I found myself thinking about harvest constantly, even when I was thousands of miles away. Wondering what was being picked that morning, what the vineyards looked like, how everyone was feeling. I was very much there in my mind, even when I couldn’t be there in person.

But while one part of our work was happening in Oregon, another was happening elsewhere.

I found myself in Mexico City launching our wines into a new market, and then in New Orleans, Atlanta, Florida, and New York, meeting with restaurants, buyers, sommeliers, and people who were discovering Cowhorn and Johan for the first time.

It was a different kind of harvest season. Instead of walking vineyard rows, I was walking into restaurants. Instead of tasting fruit from the vines, I was pouring wines from previous vintages. Instead of talking about what we might make, I was sharing what our teams had already spent years bringing to life.

And somewhere in all of that travel, I was reminded how deeply connected those two sides of our work really are.

We talk so much about farming, about the choices we make in the vineyard, about biodynamics and the patience required to make wines that truly reflect a place. And rightly so. It is the foundation of everything we do. But there is another part of this work that is equally important, and perhaps one I have come to appreciate more with each passing year.

The responsibility of carrying those wines out into the world.

Of sitting across from someone who has never heard of our vineyards and trying to communicate, in the space of a conversation or a glass of wine, what makes them so special. Of telling the stories of the people who farm them, the years that shaped them, the decisions that went into each bottle. Of building relationships that hopefully last far beyond a single vintage or a single order.

Because the work doesn’t end when the wine is bottled. In many ways, another part of it is just beginning.

I think about the amount of care that goes into farming at Johan and Cowhorn. The years of working with the same land, learning its rhythms, responding to what each season asks of us rather than trying to impose our own expectations upon it. And I think about how important it is that those wines find their way to people who will appreciate that care. People who will open them, share them, talk about them, and hopefully feel some connection to the places they came from.

That is what I was doing this harvest. And although I missed being home for so much of it, I am proud of that work, too.

Now, back in the vineyards, the pace begins to change. The fruit is in, the wines are beginning their next chapter in the cellar, and the vines are preparing for their own period of rest.

In biodynamic farming, this transition is not simply the end of one season. It is the beginning of another important part of the cycle. The time for our biodynamic preparations, for tending to the soil, for returning our attention to the life beneath our feet. For giving back to the land that has just given us so much. There is something I find especially beautiful about that. Harvest can feel like such a culmination, but the vineyard never really operates in beginnings and endings. Everything is connected, and everything we do now is part of what will come next.

And while the vineyards begin to quiet, my calendar is not quite following suit. I’ll be continuing to travel and share our wines through the end of the year, introducing Cowhorn and Johan to new places and new people, and hopefully creating opportunities that will support all the work happening back home.

I am incredibly grateful to Morgan, Vince, and our teams at both vineyards. For their commitment, their thoughtfulness, their willingness to do the difficult work, and for keeping me so connected to a harvest I wasn’t able to experience in the way I usually do. I know how much of themselves they give to these places, and I never take that for granted.

I suppose this year was a reminder that being part of a vineyard means showing up in different ways at different times. Sometimes that means being there for the earliest pick of the morning, and sometimes it means being in another city, telling someone why that pick, that place, and those people matter.

Both are acts of care, just expressed differently.

Here’s to the 2026 harvest. To the people who were there every day, to the land that continues to teach us, and to the privilege of carrying a small part of that work out into the world.