IV potsmoking & M&D

[Carvill John]

Good stuff, Doug, You sure seem to know your weed.

>From Mason & Dixon:


“In this Valley, plants,—Vegetables,—grow big,—very big. Big Corn. Each Kernel’s more than a Man can lift. Big Turnip. Six-man crew to dig out but one. Big Squash. Big enough for many families to eat their way into, and then live inside all the Winter. Very big, BIG,—Hemp-Plant.” The Mohawk is upon his feet, pretending to look in Astonishment at something nearly straight overhead.

Dixon, as if suddenly waking, inquires, “Well how big’s that, Nicholas...?

“Late in the Season, to climb to the top of a Female Plant is a Journey of many Days, Red Coat.”

They beam mischievously at one another, a Look that Mason in his Excitement does not pick up, babbling, “Because of the Volcanick Soil, obviously. A Marvel! Crawfford, ask him about Carrots.”

“Big,” the Indian replies directly, smiling and nodding. Mason notices that ev’ryone is nodding.

“Hemp-Plant,” Dixon reminds Nicholas.

Many people, he explains, even from far away, make the Journey and Ascent. In earlier times, they climb’d to a Limb wide enough not to roll off of, and camp’d there overnight. But ‘twas a fix’d season, and a grow ing Demand,—soon the great Limbs grew crowded. Some Travelers were not careful with their campfires, starting larger fires soon put out, tho’ not before producing lots of Smoak. Big smoak. Depending upon the Winds, often climbers were delay’d for days.

The first long-houses began to appear upon the sturdier Branches, each season’s Pilgrims sleeping in them overnight, then traveling on upward, others remaining to wait for them, smoking meanwhile Resin broken from some Bud nearby, and wrapp’d in a piece of Leaf, the whole being twisted into a great Cigar. Soon sheds were added to the Limb-side Inns, serving as Depots for the Jobbers who buy direct from the Bud. Bands of Renega-does arrive to attack and rob the Enterprizers, who accordingly must band together in arm’d Convoy. Yet desperate men will assault even these verti cal Caravans. Tis a lively time out there upon the Stalks.

“This Valley,—how far away is it?” Dixon with a dark breathlessness, as if, upon the right answer, he will immediately rush off into the night.

Gesturing toward gentle Alioth, “Too far. You would not go, Red Coat.”

“Perhaps I might.”

...usw...



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