 What is a vintage?
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Worlds of If Science Fiction, September 1962. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] "The Bogans have launched no less than four military campaigns in the last two decades. "Breaking and entering," Retief said. That's an industrial world of the poor but honest variety." "Our function is merely to bring them together. A tall broad man with bronze skin and gray hair, wearing tight trousers of heavy cloth, a loose shirt open at the neck and a short jacket, stepped into the room. The wine crop is just about ready. Now I don't know if you're familiar with the Bacchus vines we grow...?" "Only mature every twelve years. Apples the size of a melon—and sweet—" "Sounds very pleasant," Retief said. Blue-black sky, stars visible all day. Lots of skiing, bob-sledding, ice skating; and it's the season for woodworkers. Our furniture—" "I've seen some of your furniture," Retief said. "All local timbers too. Autumn's our harvest season. Fruit, grain, that kind of thing; getting it in doesn't take long. This is Wine Year." "Our wine crop is our big money crop," he said. But this year...." Course, I'm only twenty-eight; I can't remember but two other harvests.
 The time of year that wine grapes are harvested.
 The anniversary of Lovenbroy’s independence.  The time of year that Lovenbroy switches to making music as their primary occupation.  The time of year that wine grapes are harvested.  The time of year that children are born.