All shook up

 Back when I worked for Skinny Pineapple, they would send production staff over to the grow to help with various tasks, like transporting weed, bucking plants or settling in for an afternoon of trimming. All those things helped to give me a more well rounded view of the cannabis world. And while the grow rooms, fascinating unto themselves with their rows of endless lights and large pots filled with soil, water lines and plants, filled me with awe, it was the soft gentle work of trimming flower that gave me a longer lasting thrill.

I can remember never having enough weed on hand when I was a younger man, especially post US Navy days. There always seemed to be a drought of some kind to deal with, always something in the way of either obtaining grass or building up reliable connections to get cannabis regularly. But when I sat down with the trimming crew there in Boulder, Colorado, I found that my weed worries were all a thing of the past. I was sitting not only across the way from endless pounds of processed dope but I was involved in a merry circle of trim work, with endless bud to knock down and make pretty. My only sadness, after a day of scissor work was all said and done, was the the trimming left a sizeable amount of trichomes on my latex gloves. Tons of hash snakes went into the trash buckets daily. Wet work has it costs.

When I was living in Mendocino my experience in the world of harvest was the the plants were gathered and left hung to dry in airy sheds, with the trim work to be done later after the moisture was lessened a bit. I always felt that that slow dry, hazardous in its own way, especially when it came to mold infestation, was a better way to go. Those plants were treated a bit more kindly, even if the grows were clandestine and moderated only when kept under the surveillance of the California Medical Cannabis teams.

I know how fragile that flower is, especially in the dry and cured state. I know, that even while those plants are handled time and time again, they still need a bit of respect before they land in my pipe, bong or vape pen. So when I walked into my local dispensary on the look out for a new, novel strain, I cried out to the budtender "don't do that!" when I saw her banging around my soon to be purchased bud in the jar. What is it with these young folks? Why do they insist on treating those glistening, trichome laden flowers with such disrespect? With covid so close behind, I think our days of putting noses into jars to smell those recently banged about flowers are gone. I think of the days when I roamed Colorado, always on the hunt for something new to burn, and I would endlessly chat over the habit of rocking jars with bud personnel. Very few understood or got what I was saying. Or, rather, I should say, those who had respect for the plant got it. Only rubes, showmen and newbies banged their jars. Oh, the horror of it all!

So, to those going off to join the ranks of honored budtenders in the dispensaries, help save the hearts of us senior mota men: stop with the banging of the plants! Save the trichomes! And you can't manage to do that, give me the weed from the bottom of the jars, instead, because that's where all the goodies land. And I know what I speak of, as that is where the budtenders in the know go for their shake.