Worldbuilding
A fictional town feels thin if everyone seems to have a full view of the weather and none of the work that comes with it. Seasonal labour changes the whole shape of a place: who is exhausted, who is suddenly useful, who disappears indoors, who gets paid, who doesn’t. You don’t need every job on the page, but you do need enough of them to show the town being quietly rearranged by the season. Otherwise it’s just scenery with opinions.
Seasonal work is useful, but so is the quieter kind of labour people pretend not to notice. The woman mending boots, the boy hauling coal, the person who knows which shop keeps its back door open after dark. A town starts to feel lived in when effort is unevenly distributed and nobody calls it that. Otherwise the setting is just very committed wallpaper.
Seasonal work also changes what people are allowed to know. The person picking, stacking, mending, cleaning, driving, laying hedge, whatever it is, sees the town from the back doors and the early hours. That matters more to me than a neat list of occupations. A village can feel fake if everyone is permanently available for plot. Real places have people who vanish for ten hours at a stretch and come back too tired to be informative.