durango dispenary Archives | The Grand Junction Greenery

Rick Simpson Oil in Durango

Posted on April 14, 2018 - 9:00 am

Long story short, there isn’t any.

Not really, anyway, because for an oil to be a “Rick Simpson Oil,” it needs to me made by Rick Simpson. That’s just how it works. And honestly, I thought the guy was dead, but as it turns out, he’s living happily in Croatia because the Canadian Mounties raided his home, and he decided to leave Canada forever. But I should back up…

In the late nineties, Rick was standing on a ladder in a small room coating asbestos-insulated pipes with some sort of industrial adhesive, and he fell and hit his head (pretty much exactly like Doc did just before he dreamed up the Flux Capacitor). When Rick woke up, he was in a hospital, and when he left, the doctors gave him all sorts of pills that didn’t do much. So he asked for medicinal marijuana, and when they wouldn’t give him any, he went home and started messing around with cannabis extraction techniques in his backyard.

He mixed a bunch of marijuana with some alcohol in a bucket, stirred it with a stick, poured the alcohol onto a tray, let it evaporate, and then voila; he’d made his first batch of Rick Simpson Oil. But a few months down the road, he was diagnosed with terminal skin cancer. So he made some more oil, rubbed it on his skin (and took regular doses orally), and according to legend, the cannabis cured his cancer.

Of course, I don’t know that for a fact—there aren’t any peer-reviewed medical journals that I could find to espouse any sort of tangible evidence that Rick’s cancer was cured, nor could I find any proof that he had it in the first place, so please don’t think that the guy who writes the Greenery’s blog is telling you that all you need to cure cancer is weed, alcohol, a bucket, and a stick. If it really were that simple, cancer wouldn’t be as scary as it is.

Anyway, Rick began making tons of RSO and sending it to people who were looking for wholistic alternatives (that’s when he pissed off the Mounties). He started proselytizing like some sort of pot prophet, angered too many politicians, and then moved to Croatia where he makes a living selling his RSO cookbook online for $35.75 plus shipping and handling.

There. We’re all caught up, and now I can tell you about the oil itself: just about everything we make nowadays in Colorado is better. I know there’s something enticing about buying a book and cooking up the cure to cancer in your kitchen, and I don’t have any evidence proving it doesn’t work, so I support anyone’s right to try. But now we have scientists making our cannabis oil, real ones with doctorates who didn’t fall off a ladder and start their first batch in the backyard. We have consortiums of investors who pool their money and hire hordes of geniuses to work in world-class labs that look like they belong someplace only Marty McFly could go. And these products are spectacular.

In our Durango dispensary, we sell one gram of pure CO2-extracted cannabis oil in a glass syringe from Sweet for $50 before tax—it delivers a perfect balance between THC and CBD with lab-tested percentages that simply couldn’t be produced in Rick’s day because cannabis was illegal (you know, without scientists and whatnot like we have thirty years later here in legal Colorado). Our dispensary also carries edible full-spectrum cannabis oil capsules from Sweet for $24 including tax. Each capsule contains 10mg THC and 2.5mg CBD of unwinterized cannabis oil along with coconut oil. Many of our customers are battling cancer and they swear by this stuff. They’ll rub it on or eat it or smoke it and they tell me they love it. I don’t know if it cures anything yet—time will tell, and many are hopeful—but if you think about it, that doesn’t really matter because it makes suffering people feel better, and that’s important.

And we sell salves (Mary Jane’s Medicinals) that combine everything Rick Simpson was trying to get into a pleasant-smelling topical. Salves such as these are some of the bestsellers on the market, and we sell the one-ounce container for $15 before tax if you’d like to try it for yourself. This is the stuff the little old ladies come in for daily. They’re usually bright and happy to see me, and I’ll always run over to help them find their driver’s license, usually with a coy smile when I ask to see their I.D. And they keep coming back because the better-half of the Greatest Generation seems to love cannabis salve.

Frankly, the Sweet CO2 Oil and the Salves I just told you about are the closest things on the market to RSO (except for “Phoenix Tears,” which is just another form of oil), but some people would have you believe otherwise. There are plenty of companies out there selling “Rick Simpson Oil” and Rick Simpson himself spends a good deal of his time sending messages to these companies from Croatia telling them to stop using his name, but they never do because marijuana products are federally illegal, ergo copyright laws don’t yet extend to this industry of ours. So, manufacturers keep slapping Rick’s name on things because it helps them sell so well, and people keep falling for it thanks to the name recognition.

I spend most of my time sitting right here in front of this computer and it’s by one of our telephones, so I’m usually the one who answers when someone calls our dispensary, The Greenery, and at least one person calls in every week asking for Rick Simpson Oil. I’ll always give them an abridged version of the ten paragraphs you just read, and when they come in, I’ll show them the two products I just told you about and send them on their way with confidence. But if you still have questions about infused topicals that might actually be better than Rick Simpson Oil (but without the name everyone knows), just come see Your Best Buds at 208 Parker Avenue in Durango (or call us at 970-403-3710), and we’ll show you all the new stuff on the market so you don’t have to make it in your backyard with a bucket.

The Greenery Grow

Posted on November 4, 2017 - 9:00 am

I was a teenager the first time I saw a marijuana plant. It was a sickly thing, growing stunted and slightly brown in an Alaskan basement, but it was still wonderful.

My friend had modified his chest-of-drawers. He’d taken the fronts off each drawer, and then he’d nailed them back onto the front of his bureau. And then he’d hinged the entire front face of his chest-of-drawers so it would open, like some sort of secret enclave. He’d drilled a hole in the back and wired it for electricity, and then he’d lined the inside with tinfoil to make it reflective. A single grow light had been hung in the top, and a fan was attached right below it. In the dark of night, glowing light escaped from the cracks in my friend’s modified bureau and the whole thing hummed with the fan’s white noise—my friend’s chest-of-drawers looked and sounded haunted, as if a porthole to another dimension were contained inside instead of a growing plant. It was downright Narnian.

And it really was mystical the first time I saw my friend’s contraption. He took me down into his basement—we told his parents we were doing homework—and he stood in front of his chest-of-drawers with a wide smile, looking like a gameshow host about to do a big reveal. He unlatched the front of his bureau and then he swung it open while singing out a single note, as if what he was showing me were holy: the inside of my friend’s invention was gleaming golden with a little green plant right in the middle, and it blew my mind. My friend was MacGyver! How the hell had he figured out a way to grow marijuana in his parent’s house without them noticing? How’d they overlooked the fact that my friend had stopped putting away his clothes because he’d turned his chest-of-drawers into a grow room? I was dumfounded, and twenty years later, I still shake my head in awe when I think back to that moment.

But the first time I saw a growing pot plant was nothing like the most recent time: our head grower gave me a tour of The Greenery’s Grow, and the experience was so striking that I simply had to write about it. For the record, marijuana is a weed, plain and simple. If you walked by a ditch and threw in a few pot seeds like a cooler version of Johnny Appleseed, they’d eventually sprout and grow into flowering marijuana. But ditch-weed is a far cry from the flower that a master grower can produce, and the product that comes from our grow is simply the best in town because our cultivation team takes the art seriously:

Before walking into our facility, Mike had me step into a shallow rubber tray containing a mild solution of bleach and water. And before walking further, I had to step on a huge mat of sticky paper (kind of like flypaper for humans) to remove all the unwanted particulates from the outside world that might’ve hitched a ride on my shoes. Once inside, it felt like I was standing in a laboratory. There were professionally labeled metallic tents everywhere, looking like they came straight from NASA. There was a huge bottle of CO2 secured to the outside of the building; it pumped in regimented amounts of the gas pot-plants like to eat. There was a maze of custom air conditioning ductwork webbing across the ceiling; there were light-emitting ceramic lights humming above the plants like artificial suns; there were professionally constructed trellises around the plants and mounted fans to give the plants healthy stress. And the plants themselves were beautiful: huge colas of crystalline flower bowing their stems with weight, perfuming the air with an intoxicating smell. Everything was perfect, and the amount of thought and effort and science that went into our grow facility made me proud to be a part of this company, if I’m being honest, because this sort of thing matters. And I’ll tell you why.

Every so often, someone will come into our dispensary looking for a specific strain, and last Friday, one such man came in looking for True Berry. No kidding, he said it was the “best strain for meditative flute playing.” I smiled, told the man he was in luck, and then I let him smell a sample of our Greenery-grown True Berry. And as soon as I did, I could see via his expression that that he’d found something unexpected. His eyes got wide and he looked up, saying with his face that this was the best pot he’d ever smelled. So, I told him all about it, and I told him about our grow. I told him how we use living soil instead of hydroponics, and I told him that we use predatorial bugs instead of insecticides. I told him that we grow it in small batches, just like distilling fine whiskey, and I told him that he wouldn’t find a better True Berry flower anywhere else in the world. And because of the effort put in by our growers, I wasn’t lying.

So please, if you’d like to experience what it’s like to smoke something grown with true skill in a real grow facility (or if you’re looking for the best meditative-flute-playing marijuana in the world), just check out our menu to see if we’re selling Greenery-grown True Berry. And then come in so one of our budtenders can show you exactly what I’m talking about. You’ll see that we really do have the best pot in town, and you’ll see why we say We’re Your Best Buds!

Moroccan Hash in Durango

Posted on September 23, 2017 - 9:00 am

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The Berbers are a people of ancient Arab stock—they’ve lived in the mountainous Rif region of Morocco for as long as records have been kept. Their eyes and hair are deep brown, their traditions are exotic, and they paint their houses and streets blue to mirror the sky, to be reminded always of a god living above. And they make hashish, just as they always have, because it’s a part of Moroccan life.

In the Rif, the soil is red and rich, and the air smells salty because the Mediterranean Sea starts where the mountains end. And hidden in the highlands are terraced hills covered with flowering marijuana. The Berber men tend their crop until it’s time to harvest, and then they reap their fields the way their fathers taught them to. The harvested marijuana is set aside to cure for a month, and then the flower is trimmed from the stalk. The green bud is ground gently, and then placed on a silk drum—the silk acts as a filter: the pollen falls through while the plant matter stays trapped on the surface. The Berber men cover the flower with a tarp, and then start beating on it rhythmically with bamboo canes; they call this “making music.” When the hash-song is done, the men uncover the beaten flower and throw it away. They take the silk head from the drum and look inside; the brittle trichomes that filtered through the silk sit in the drum’s bottom. Light brown, pungent, intoxicating.

The men press the powdery hash by hand, heating and kneading it gently, and they smile as their Moroccan hash darkens. They roll it into balls, keeping the best for themselves, and then they send their hash out into the world; these Berber men make half the world’s supply. But oddly enough, marijuana is illegal in Morocco. Lenience is given to the Berber tribes because it’s easier than policing them, but once their hash leaves the mountains like snowmelt flowing downhill, it loses its protection. It’s coveted and fought over just like anything else that makes you feel good, and it’s always been ridiculously hard to come by in the States. I’ve only had authentic Moroccan hash twice in my life—I could tell by the tribal stamp pressed into the bricks I bought—and I didn’t want to think too much about how I got what I got, because most of this hash is smuggled out of Morocco in a very… personal way. But each time I smoked it, I loved the feeling Moroccan Hash gave me, and after each time I ran out, my smile turned upside-down.

But that’s over: now, The Greenery Hash Factory is making their own Moroccan Hash, and we’re selling it at The Greenery for thirty-five bucks a gram. And the craziest part is that the stuff we’re making is better than the stuff I’ve smoked before; maybe we should call it “Durangan Hash” and smuggle it into Morocco so they can see what they’ve been doing wrong for centuries. For one, we use the best marijuana in Colorado to make our hash—our cannabis is grown in a controlled environment with living soil by a badass Master Grower, not out in the wind and rain of a Moroccan mountainside (and we don’t have to worry about goats eating our pot, which is nice).

Secondly, we use modern technology to make our “music”; quality control is much easier to achieve when you’re using a dry-sift machine instead of bamboo canes. And when you do everything scientifically, from using an exact heat to caramelize the hash to testing the hash in a modern laboratory, you end up with a superior product. Our most recent batch of Moroccan Hash is simply awesome: we made it from Skunk #1 flower, and the THC came in at 65%, the CBD came in at 1.3%, and the CBN came in at 2.3%. Today, when most marijuana concentrates are made using a chemical extraction process, these numbers are exciting because we did it the old-school way, naturally.

But in the end, it’s the experience that counts, not the numbers or the three-letter-acronyms, and I swear to you that to smoke our hash is to know perfection. The flavor is deep and musky, like a velvety dark chocolate or a fragrant black tea. The high is focused and intense, with profound relaxation and a centered calm. It’s the high I’ve been looking for through the years since I held those tribal-stamped bricks of the real deal, but taken to another level in the hands of our hash craftsmen. So, come in to our dispensary and ask one of our affable budtenders to show you what I’m talking about; you can smell it and see it for yourself. From now on, we’re offering this Moroccan Hash to Durango and our neighbors because it’s just better than what has been offered before—that’s what you’ve come to expect from Your Best Buds, and that’s what you’ll get if you try our house-made Moroccan Hash.

Marijuana Edible Serving Size

Posted on September 9, 2017 - 9:00 am

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“I ate way too many edibles this one time,” said every stoner, ever. For real. Everyone I know who enjoys the occasional edible has a similar horror story—one they look back on with an embarrassed shake of the head—because eating one milligram too many is an easy thing to do. So, as a stopgap, I’m going to share my story with you, and then I’ll tell you how to avoid the same mistake. Here it is:

I have my medical card, so I have to be especially careful—The Greenery is a recreational-only dispensary, so our edibles are limited to ten milligrams of THC per serving, but the medical shops around town don’t live under the same restrictions: I’ve seen them sell one-hundred-milligram brownies that’re small enough to eat in one bite, and that’s just scary, when you think about it (but I’ll get to that in a second).

Before I hired on here, I shopped at a medical place downtown. The sour gummies they sold were my favorite. Each gummy was ten milligrams, and two of them would put me exactly where I needed to be. But this one time (see?), the company that made my favorite sour gummies doubled their per-piece dosage. Nobody told me. And I’d just made it through an especially trying week, so I decided to have three gummies instead of two, because, you know… dumb. Anyway, as soon as the flavor faded from my mouth after gummy-number-three, something on the package caught my eye. I read on. And then the “oh shit” bubble appeared over my head as I realized I’d just eaten sixty milligrams instead of a hearty thirty. I got a glass of water and hunkered down with my afghan. Crazy things were coming…

I’m going to take a break here and tell you what you’re supposed to do if you eat too many edibles: stay hydrated, and remind yourself that the world isn’t ending. Pot isn’t anything like alcohol or narcotics, and for an adult, it impossible to overdose, even on edibles. All you need to do is find a safe place, drink water, and weather the storm, because nothing about marijuana is permanent. Anyway, let’s get back to it…

My story doesn’t end like a few of the good ones I’ve heard: I didn’t end up marooned in a tree or lost topless at a music festival. But I did end up on my bed, small and bundled as I fought the panic with the fetal position. I’m not going to minimize the feeling just because I’m a proponent of selling edibles to people; it’s my job to be honest with you and that’s what I’m going to do.

That night, it felt like my brain was interdimensional.

The world around me shrank and expanded, and I lost communication with my extremities somewhere along the way—there were dizzying thoughts and tumbling worries, and I just wanted it to end. Of course, I eventually passed out after an hour that was amusing only in retrospect, and the next morning, everything was right as rain. I didn’t even have a marijuana hangover, because they don’t exist. But I’ll tell you here and now that taking sixty milligrams of edible marijuana is something I’ll never do again.

But really, that doesn’t do you any good because everyone is different when it comes to edibles. We all have different metabolisms. So, while sixty milligrams might be a Hunter S. Thompson novel for me, the same dosage might not do a damn thing for you: everyone must find their own dosage. The trick is to take it slowly and not be reckless (you know, pretty much the way you’re supposed to live life), because if you do it right, an edible high is a wonderful, warm thing that you’ll want to relive over and over. So, I recommend that you start by taking a single serving, or less, and then gauge the effects. As I mentioned, at recreational shops in Colorado, everything tops out at ten milligrams per serving and one-hundred milligrams per package, so the “single serving” you should start with is ten milligrams. I rarely repeat myself or use bold typeface, but this occasion warrants a break from tradition.

Secondly, after you eat those ten milligrams, wait a solid hour before even thinking about eating more. That boldness was justified, too. For most people, it takes an entire hour before edibles start affecting the brain, and it takes two hours before you feel the full effect; the last thing you want to do is get impatient and toss more kindling into the fire. And after an hour, if the effect isn’t strong enough, remember that THC is lipid-soluble. If you’re not feeling anything, eat a handful of peanuts or half an avocado; the healthy fat will get down there and help the pot do its magic; it’s a symbiotic trick that’ll save you from an experience like mine.

Third, if you’re small like my wife, I’d recommend taking it a step further and halving that “single serving.” At The Greenery, we sell quite a few edibles that come in five milligram servings—like Highly Edible Pucks or Mountain High Sweet Pieces or Dixie Mints—and if you have a low THC tolerance, this might be the place to start.

And lastly, don’t feel like you need to remember all of this, and please don’t let it scare you away from a good time. Edible marijuana is the greatest invention since marijuana-infused sliced bread (learn how to bake it here), and all you need to do is be responsible when you experiment. As to remembering it all, at The Greenery, every single one of our budtenders knows what you just read—if you have questions, come in and ask them. If you buy edibles, and you’re interested, we’ll even throw into your bag a cheat-sheet that talks that talks about dosages and times so you don’t have to take notes. That’s the least we can do, because we’re Your Best Buds, and we want you to have a safe, enjoyable, edible time.

Indica vs. Sativa

Posted on July 22, 2017 - 9:00 am

There’re over four-thousand different strains of marijuana growing across the globe, sprouting like the wondrous weeds they are, but each of them falls into one of two categories: Indica or Sativa. Of course, most strains have been crossbred so many times that it’s difficult to tell which is which, and just about everything out there is a hybrid thanks to the incestuous way plants get together and make more plants—after decades of desultory pollination, there’s no longer a definite line in the sand between the two categories, and that can make things difficult when you’re chasing the effects that come from one side or the other.

But at The Greenery, we’re here to help. We know the lineage of each strain we sell and we’ve smoked all of them. We can tell you which bud will make you sleepy, which bud will perk you up, just like that Cheshire cat could tell Alice which side would make her bigger, which side would make her small. But before we get into specific strains, we should discuss the two, overarching categories so you have a jumping off place; we’ll start with Sativa.

You probably drew a Sativa leaf on your notebook back in high school. Yes, all pot leaves have the same number of fronds and they’re instantly recognizable thanks to the jagged edges, but Sativa leaves are a little different than their fatter Indica cousins. They’re light green and thin and they spread out perfectly to form the symbol we use for all marijuana. And the plant itself is special too. It can grow into a veritable tree, standing over two-stories high if you let it, but most varieties top-out at around ten feet.

Sativa is a day-time pot. The high is energetic and creative, and it’ll give you a bright haze that’s perfect for summer days, happy times. These cerebral strains live in your head and pollinate your thoughts with creativity, they make you giggle and go out, connect with what’s important. Sativa strains should remind you of tie-died T-shirts and road trips and the highlife we’ve been trying to recapture from the hippie days our parents reminisce about. And from a medical standpoint, these strains can battle back pain and headaches and depression, and for some, they can even act as an appetite suppressor, thereby destroying the “munchies” stereotype you see in cliché pot movies. However, I’d be lax if I didn’t tell you about Sativa’s darker side, so I’ll be honest about the possible negative side effects: with one puff too many, these strains are more likely to bring with them anxiety and paranoia. But you know what? Given that traditional pharmaceuticals and other recreational drugs (like booze) can kill you, I’d say a little anxiety is worth it (there’s no such thing as a pot writer who doesn’t toss in a caveat like that, so please forgive me).

Now, on to Indica—these varieties are famous for their dark green, broad leaves, and a musky scent. The plants themselves are short and squat, usually topping out at about six feet, and they’re originally from India and the Middle East (ergo, the name). Indica is a nighttime pot, perfect for good movies and comfortable blankets thanks to the body-high these strains bring with them. This strain should remind you of relaxed, fragrant evenings and smiling camels and that odd sitar music that makes sand dunes so exotic. Medicinally speaking, Indica strains can help with appetite stimulation and insomnia and anxiety relief. But one puff too many can put you down, and lethargy or insatiable munchies are the worst you can expect. It’s a cheesy one-liner, but all you need to remember is that “Indica will put you in-da-couch.” It’s the down to Sativa’s up, the mellow yin to Sativa’s energetic yang. And it’s wonderful.

Personally, before I started working in a dispensary, I used to think that Indica was the way to go, and that Sativa wasn’t for me. And now, I meet people who think the same way (or visa-versa) every day. They’ll come in and say something like “I hate Sativa because it makes me paranoid,” and they’ll ignore completely any of our Sativa-dominant hybrids. For the record, I don’t judge these people because my tastes used to run parallel to theirs. But now I’ve learned a few things, and I share them with as many customers as possible. At The Greenery, we always have at least ten, top-shelf strains available for purchase—five are Indica-dominant, and five are Sativa-dominant. You can see them here on our menu.

However, it’s the “dominant” in the description you need to pay attention to, because like I said, there’s really no such thing as a pure Indica or a pure Sativa anymore because just about everything out there has been mixed with everything else. But you know what? This is a good thing. Now, if you ask the right people (like us), you can find a perfect 50/50 hybrid that’ll give you both the head high that comes from Sativa and the body high that comes from Indica. If you come in and ask us, we can show you 70/30 strains that lean closer to the Sativa side of the spectrum—these can give you creativity and relaxation at the same time which can be sublimely mind-blowing. Or we can point you towards a 70/30 Indica-leaning strain that’ll bring with it deep body relaxation and a touch of the giggles. Isn’t that awesome?

Seriously, here at The Greenery, we can do that for you, and we won’t lead you astray as you bounce back and forth in the Indica vs. Sativa battle. Come in and tell us the specific high you’re looking for, and we’ll give you options. We’ll let you smell them and buy them at a fair price, and we’ll pay attention to your feedback. That’s how it should be, and that’s how it is with Your Best Buds.

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Tag: durango dispenary

Rick Simpson Oil in Durango

The Greenery Grow

Moroccan Hash in Durango

Marijuana Edible Serving Size

Indica vs. Sativa