BudHayes
04-12-2006, 02:27 PM
The Tardis has many properties (donâ??t worry this is not a nerd fest â?? at least not about science fiction!!) one of which is the difference between outside appearance and internal capacity.
Welcome to the world of the Cannabis Man.
He likes to say that his thirteen years of work have been conducted in his garden â??shedâ??. For many months my own personal experience of this legendary place existed only in the descriptions the man himself gave. This stemmed from a natural reluctance to open up when prison was a potential consequence.
However, the day eventually arrived when I received an invite. That, in itself, was an honour extended to less people than I have fingers on one hand (family members included) so it was not an opportunity that I could reasonably forego.
Now I have to describe it and that is an altogether more difficult idea.
Granted, it does resemble a shed in some basic ways â?? not least because it is located in the back garden of an ordinary house in an ordinary street in an ordinary town. Any pretence of similarity is, however, destroyed once you step through the door.
Inside was little less than a laboratory complete with all that such a title might entail.
The microscope was old and bulky by modern standards but effective and efficient enough for its purpose. To the left of the door was a glass fronted cabinet running floor to ceiling and containing plants enthusiastically described as â??mothersâ??. These basked in air conditioned warmth, dancing cheerfully in the treated gusts.
Benches lined one wall containing seed trays with small plants struggling to find their way in the world, books and notes and a few mementoes of the man who had helped stoke the Cannabis Mans initial fire. Pictures brought a homeliness to the bare walls â?? some iconographic others portraying the Cannabis Man at various stages of his life.
Central to the piece were a wood burning stove that appeared to have escaped from a Mark Twain novel and a large, comfortable chair bearing evidence of heavy use.
I was already impressed. That perhaps was my first mistake.
The assumptions one makes about a garden shed would suggest that this was it. A few mature plants and a few seedlings seemed impressive enough to me. That was when he suggested I look at some of the other rooms. Other rooms?
Suddenly doors seemed to open in all directions as I was ushered from one room to another, each grander than the one before and each containing plants at different stages of growth â?? from the tiny to those with gleaming, sparkling buds ready to be cropped, shining like jewels in the harsh light necessary for such dramatic growth.
Around each crop stood a cage of chicken wire and wood (a response to a vermin attack - now repelled by cages and a group of terriers who had the run of the whole place).
The entire project was an amazing thing to behold and to see the Cannabis Man actually among his plants was to see something rarely glimpsed in modern life â?? the relationship between man and nature on a pure and real level. Perhaps, the feeling of being impressed rested as much on this as the sheer scale and beauty of the operation.
Now it has all been dismantled. The knowledge remains but the plants are gone.
The Cannabis Man in making his commitment to fight for his plants has removed himself from legal sanction in order that he might fight on open ground and strive fully to engender a debate on the subject that avoids the lazy prejudice normally served up as an argument and instead moves on to the ground normally occupied by science. His is a simple mission â?? Examine cannabis for good and ill. Do so in an environment of openness and understanding and use the plant for the good for which it was originally intended.
http://www.cambo.org.uk
Welcome to the world of the Cannabis Man.
He likes to say that his thirteen years of work have been conducted in his garden â??shedâ??. For many months my own personal experience of this legendary place existed only in the descriptions the man himself gave. This stemmed from a natural reluctance to open up when prison was a potential consequence.
However, the day eventually arrived when I received an invite. That, in itself, was an honour extended to less people than I have fingers on one hand (family members included) so it was not an opportunity that I could reasonably forego.
Now I have to describe it and that is an altogether more difficult idea.
Granted, it does resemble a shed in some basic ways â?? not least because it is located in the back garden of an ordinary house in an ordinary street in an ordinary town. Any pretence of similarity is, however, destroyed once you step through the door.
Inside was little less than a laboratory complete with all that such a title might entail.
The microscope was old and bulky by modern standards but effective and efficient enough for its purpose. To the left of the door was a glass fronted cabinet running floor to ceiling and containing plants enthusiastically described as â??mothersâ??. These basked in air conditioned warmth, dancing cheerfully in the treated gusts.
Benches lined one wall containing seed trays with small plants struggling to find their way in the world, books and notes and a few mementoes of the man who had helped stoke the Cannabis Mans initial fire. Pictures brought a homeliness to the bare walls â?? some iconographic others portraying the Cannabis Man at various stages of his life.
Central to the piece were a wood burning stove that appeared to have escaped from a Mark Twain novel and a large, comfortable chair bearing evidence of heavy use.
I was already impressed. That perhaps was my first mistake.
The assumptions one makes about a garden shed would suggest that this was it. A few mature plants and a few seedlings seemed impressive enough to me. That was when he suggested I look at some of the other rooms. Other rooms?
Suddenly doors seemed to open in all directions as I was ushered from one room to another, each grander than the one before and each containing plants at different stages of growth â?? from the tiny to those with gleaming, sparkling buds ready to be cropped, shining like jewels in the harsh light necessary for such dramatic growth.
Around each crop stood a cage of chicken wire and wood (a response to a vermin attack - now repelled by cages and a group of terriers who had the run of the whole place).
The entire project was an amazing thing to behold and to see the Cannabis Man actually among his plants was to see something rarely glimpsed in modern life â?? the relationship between man and nature on a pure and real level. Perhaps, the feeling of being impressed rested as much on this as the sheer scale and beauty of the operation.
Now it has all been dismantled. The knowledge remains but the plants are gone.
The Cannabis Man in making his commitment to fight for his plants has removed himself from legal sanction in order that he might fight on open ground and strive fully to engender a debate on the subject that avoids the lazy prejudice normally served up as an argument and instead moves on to the ground normally occupied by science. His is a simple mission â?? Examine cannabis for good and ill. Do so in an environment of openness and understanding and use the plant for the good for which it was originally intended.
http://www.cambo.org.uk