When I was a teen I’d start 6-10 seedlings in my parents attic or out in the barn every spring. And around June I’d snuggle them out to the Capitol forest on my beat up old dirt bike, plant them, and then return in late August. I’d chop down whatever had grown, dry it in 3-4 days, and smoke all my friends out immediately. We’d be “sorta” high for a couple of weeks and that was it. Homegrown rag weed.
Years later I would get pretty good out producing slightly above average smoke outdoors but still… average at best.
Now, 50 years later I’ve started more serious and patient indoor growing. On my third harvest now and have learned to be patient to start, patient to grow, patient to coddle them, patient to dry, and patient to cure.
The yields are ok but the quality is staggering. More than anything, the experience … the moments… the enjoyment for the process… has been amazing. The discipline has not only paid off but it’s bled over into other parts of life. I appreciate the “effort” required and the fruits of my labor to sound absolutely corny.
All of that however… and I’m still anxious as fuck for the end result lol. I don’t even smoke anymore so my anxiety has to wait for feedback from family and friends lol.
My retired physicist friend telling me he smoked my last harvest and could “feel” the dark matter… was the most rewarding feedback ever lol.
I think I’ll keep trying😬