Once again this year, I will have the chance to enjoy February 14. There will be no risk of rejection and no obligation to spend, impress or compliment, because I will not be celebrating St Valentine's Day. Of course, in the current era of speed dating, Hallmark holidays, prenups and record levels of lifelong cohabitation, much of the Middle Age chivalric values and courtly love that laid the foundations for the rituals associated with St Valentine's Day may have been lost, anyway.

But fortunately, Bulgarians don't officially celebrate the holiday of love. Not yet. Instead, on February 14, Bulgarians celebrate a unique holiday called Trifon Zarezan. In honour of St Trifon, it is the holiday of vine growers, winemakers and wine drinkers. I will be free from the worry of neglecting a girlfriend or lamenting the lack of one. I can profess it loud and proud: I love wine and I love Trifon Zarezan.

Custonarily, February 14 (or on February 1, if you're a stickler for tradition) is the day to trim grape vines. The effective cultivation and care of vines naturally yields a more fruitful crop. There are many ancient traditions associated with the holiday, such as sprinkling the pruned vines with wine or holy water and blessing them to ensure favourable weather and a good harvest. However, many of these older traditions are no longer observed. One thing is certain, however: Trifon Zarezan is a great opportunity to throw a party and drink wine.

Out in the provinces, many people still go out to their vineyards to celebrate. Perhaps while roasting kebabcheta over a fire and drinking heavily, many people will tie the vine clippings into large circles, placing them on their heads, or across their chests. This symbolises fertility, an imitation of the wreath of leaves worn by Dionysus. It has been said that on Trifon Zarezan, men come back from their work like animals, crawling on four legs.

Like most holidays, Trifon Zarezan has a history in long-established pagan rituals. Celebrations of winemaking date back to the days of the ancient Thracians that once inhabited the territory of modern Bulgaria. Though much of their civilisation is shrouded in mystery, archaeological evidence supports claims that some of the first vine cultivation in history took place in this region of the Balkans. The belief system of the Thracians focused on Dionysus, the god of wine and ecstasy, known as Bacchus in his later Roman reincarnation.

Winemaking and drinking in Bulgaria have a long and tumultuous past. Ancient legends in the region make references to drinking wine from the skull of a slain enemy. During the ninth century, Han Krum instituted what may have been the first recorded prohibitionist laws when he outlawed the production and consumption of wine. It was an unsuccessful attempt, however, and after the law was repealed, vine cultivation and wine production continued to develop throughout the Middle Ages and the Ottoman period.

Wine production flourish during the Cold War. Bulgaria had one of the best climates for wine-growing of all the Eastern Bloc countries.

Wines from Bulgaria were exported across Eastern Europe and to the large market of the Soviet Union. However, with the collapse of the Soviet Union, Bulgaria's primary market, wine exports fell overnight to virtually nothing.

Though it was not long before Bulgaria's wine was discovered on the markets of Western Europe. The 1990s saw a period of great export growth to these locations. But there has been another turnaround recently, as exports to markets such as England and Germany have been slowing. Bulgaria is now looking to re-establish exports to Eastern European countries, Russia and even farther afield in China.

Branded Bulgarian wines, historically, have been export oriented. This is due in large part to the lack of demand on the domestic market because so many Bulgarian families make their own wine.

Georgi Georgiev, a Sofia resident of several years, originally comes from the north-eastern city of Novi Pazar. His family has been making its own wine for generations; he learnt the art of winemaking from his grandfather. Georgi's family owns half a decare of vineyards. From this his family makes about 150 liters of wine in the basement of their village home. Between a few glasses a day among several family members, hosting guests and celebrating the seemingly endless winter holidays, they have wine to see them through to the spring.

However, despite Bulgarians' love for their homemade wine, this is a tradition Georgi sees disappearing. As the youth flock to cities and abroad, villages are simply emptying out. This leaves no one to care for the vines or to learn the trade from their parents or grandparents. Furthermore, due to the low buying price of grapes, his family no longer makes much money selling part of their grape harvest to the wine manufacturers. It is simply not worth the investment in time and money to upkeep their vines. As a result, in many cases, personal vineyards are being simply abandoned and the tradition slowly fades. Years ago, homemade wine was so common it could be bought in almost any store. Today, few stores sell it and families that continue the practice distribute their stock less liberally.

In fact, according to Georgi, just as the art of making homemade wine is dying out, so too is the traditional way of celebrating Trifon Zarezan. He says he sees more young people these days celebrating Valentine's Day, or some combination of both holidays, than heading out to the vinyards as their parents and grandparents once did to trim the vines. It seems a natural result of the increased urbanisation Bulgaria has experienced since 1989. Younger generations are simply losing touch with their agricultural roots and the traditions associated with them. Sad as it may be to see the practice fade, many are unaware of the long weekends of toiling in the fields necessary to keep the vines productive. When a family's children move to larger cities to pursue professional careers, the physical and financial strain simply becomes too much for those who remain to continue.

Unfortunately, losing long-held traditions is nothing novel. In many industrialised Western countries, Christmas barely has anything to do with Jesus anymore. The period of transition in which Bulgaria has been for more than 15 years is bound to result in some unwanted changes. Regardless, though some rituals may change, the Bulgarian people still love their wine, even if it's not their own homemade, and Trifon Zarezan as an official holiday is in no danger. At the very least, it will always provide a good excuse to drink copious amounts of wine and celebrate with friends and not worry about love or heartache, just the possibility of headache.