You have to hand it to farmers: No matter how you feel about the politics behind food, they have one tough gig. Those early mornings, being at the mercy of Mother Nature, stepping in shit or fertilizer. No thanks.
Thinking about farming always takes me back to a line from one of the Harold and Kumar movies: "You ever tried farming not high? It's boring as shit!" And as someone who once spent two hours on a farm in third grade, I would know.
I'm not recommending that operators of deadly machinery light up before they turn on a hay grinder or drive a tractor (I don't think I can recommend that, legally), but Citrus Farmer, a potent hybrid from northern California, is good for a quick puff of second wind when the dangerous work is done. It's good for a huff of second wind, too, because the punch of wet earth and squeezed citrus that each bud emits qualifies as doldrums aromatherapy. In fact, I enjoyed my first frisky run with Citrus Farmer so much that I then bought an ounce of it, but quickly found out that dipping into the jar throughout the day led to the foggiest brain I've had in weeks. Forget about trying to remember what day it is: I couldn't even remember which toothbrush was mine. Honestly, I'm proud of myself for having the drive to even try.
As with any long-term relationship — and that's what buying an ounce is, for most of us — figuring out my expectations and pace with Citrus Farmer helped me find the balance I needed. While that fresh-squeezed smell of orange or grapefruit juice can be enjoyed and even beneficial in the morning, an extra glass of sugar and acid gets internally disruptive as we get older. I'm consistently two steps behind if I smoke Citrus Farmer all day, but one step blissfully ahead if I keep it limited to one bowl in mid- to late morning.
A hybrid of Tangerine Skunk and Grandpa's Breath, Citrus Farmer is more popular in the Pacific Northwest and California than it is here, but we've spotted it at the Herbal Cure and LoDo Wellness Center, and hope it will pop up at more spots as summer heats up.
Looks: Although Citrus Farmer's buds can get dense, they like to stay long and segmented, generally on the sativa side. The cuts I've come across range from bright to wintergreen, with a sharp layer of trichomes and the occasional contrasting spots of violet.
Smell: True affection for Citrus Farmer starts (and mostly stays) in the nose. Sometimes you'll notice oranges and tangerines, other times it might be grapefruit or limes, but it always smells fresh and pulpy, as if your eyes might start burning if you squeeze the bud too hard. The strain isn't a one-trick pony, either, with creamy, floral notes of lavender, dank notes of soil and a quiet, skunky back end.
Flavor: More balanced than the aroma, Citrus Farmer's flavor adds a little more skunk and dirt to those sharp, juicy citrus notes, like an orange-blossom cocktail heavy on the gin.
Effects: Citrus Farmer has the ability to range between a happy-hour margarita and a morning glass of orange juice, boosting your spirits and killing inhibitions to the point of haze and sloppiness, or making the next six hours of your day a breezy walk in the park. On the bright side, you'll either be too comatose or stress-free to care which outcome you get. The high managed to keep me happy throughout the day without inspiring me to clean out my pantry, but I did have a bad case of extended dry mouth.
Home grower's take: "Popped some seeds a little over a year ago, and it took damn near half of the year before I got anything good out of it. Really sticky buds, but they took too long to come together — at least ten weeks — and I probably cured them another six before those strong citrus flavors shone through."
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