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After it was all over, the roller coaster ride of emotions from our breakup screeched to a halt, the safety bars lifted up and I stepped back out on the platform. My ride was surely over, but I was left with vivid images of sweet revenge. I am not a spiteful person. But somehow the wounds on my heart healed quicker if I imagined cartoon images of myself with a bag full of cannabis pollen, hanging out of a helicopter and poofing it out over his entire crop.
Wait a minute, don’t get all activist on me – I love those ladies way too much to impregnate them in such a devious way. It would be wrong, I know. But somehow the thought of him standing there covered in pollen, looking up as I waved and giggled made me feel so much better. Plus, I could schedule it at just the right time when the ladies’ kolas were sticky enough to be practically begging to catch some of that powder on their luscious buds, say – early September. I could have done it – I had access to a helicopter and a big bag of pollen in the freezer of a different male from the past. But I’ve got way better and more important things to do. Like fall in love again.
I met Charlie while trimming on a neighbor’s ranch, since I was cut out of the farming equation with the ex and back to square one after all we had built together. Charlie was nursing a broken heart too. We had a lot in common. We tenderly held each other’s hearts after chatting side by side all day at work. All love was not lost! There was hope in the world again! That tarnished twinkle began to shine brightly, and I could almost hear the sound of the feathers unfurling in my broken wings as they stretched out in the sun! I had thought I was done with men for life. I envisioned myself with lots of cats crawling all over me in my studio apartment and buying cat food by the ton at Costco. Then a handsome, nurturing, gentle man appeared and helped restore my hope and mend my broken wings.
I got to thinking about male pollen. Rarely do I hear any of my farmer friends bragging about their fat sack of pollen they dusted off from the gigantic male plant they babied all summer long. In fact, the unplucked male plant is a nuisance for farmers who grow from seed. When unnoticed and left to produce his amazingly potent pollen, the male can pollinate several females with one gust of wind. In nature, the pollen microns sail through the air and embed themselves in the sticky delight of female plants. The female plant then produces seeds, which eventually fall to the ground over the winter, get rained on, and sprout – furthering the species.
Unfortunately for the male cannabis plant, we like our chronic without seeds – and our ladies pure. We love our sweet sticky sensimilla (sin semilla meaning without seed in Spanish), but the males are quite deserving of our love too. Have you ever seen a mature male cannabis plant? They are sexy – their pollen sacks poof a lusty powder onto their own leaves and they are covered in their own, um, love dust, if you will. They exude sex appeal in a way very different from the lovely ladies and spend their lives just waiting to burst open, hoping their pollen will be carried by the wind to a lustful woman next door or maybe down the block.
We should worship the male as much as the female plant. Like many males, he deserves to be adored, and our misconceptions should be left in the dust. Though he can destroy a whole crop of Grade A sensimilla, he doesn’t mean to. He is just trying to do what he is put here to do – spread his love to the ladies and ensure that they will all be around for the future. Sometimes his efforts will be in vain, and he’ll get plucked from the patch and left out to dry. Every now and then that one male might come along that we want to keep – in order to preserve ourselves for the future and start fresh again.
For the first piece by Linda Cola, “Missing My Girls: A Farmer’s Heartbreak,” click here.
Photo Credit: Linda Cola