By taking the time and effort to build up my personal pharmacy, the cannabis just smokes differently.
In a densely packed chillum each hit is a reminder of meticulous planning, dedicated effort, unending patience and (mostly) unwavering faith.
I (mostly) joke about being a custy because the experience is foreign. When I couldn’t do it legally, I was growing scared, but still growing. When I could do it medically, I was growing as much as my landlord would tolerate. When I could do it legally I grew what I needed 🫣. And now it’s a quiet time where I’ll mostly be checking out other people’s grows. Thank goodness for the work of mentees that keeps me sane and out of the dispensaries.
But there is nothing quite like the sweet taste of my own efforts. Look at that resin just a’twinklin… You know I collected some of that!
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