Black Mountain Herb - Part 1

Essay by spoonman419 July 2004

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The wind that always blows up here pushing gently on me, I waited as the cable cars from the parking area over a thousand feet below me came to a stop. We do not allow anyting up here that creates pollution, our cars are run on solar energy up here. Comfortable and green, the cars were probably the first calming influence in the visit here. This was a Very Special Place.

Smiling as I walk to meet the guests, cameras about their necks and as many different styles of haute Casual as one could imagine, I shake a few hands and exchange a few moments of pleasantries. This is not everyone's first trip to the Blue Mountain. Most people seem happy to follow me toward our first reception hall. Greenhouse 1.

I suppose I should explain.

They call me and my wife marketing geinius' now, and will tell you on Wall Street that we saw it coming when others did not.

I do not think so.

Getting rich was never our goal, it just seemed to happen as we built our Very Special Place.

Blue Mountain Herb.

In the 1990's, when the war on marijuana seemed hopelessly lost, I had vowed one day I would build Blue Mountain Farms. Not a simple farm of marijuana, no way.

I had vowed to build a palce that memorializes the fight for freedom that was the drug war. Getting rich seems to be a simple reflection of everyone else' agreement on the theme.

I mean, we used good taste as this Special Place grew.

It had started when weed was legalized. I had been growing for awhile, and seeing the way the wind was blowing, I made a decent sum of money before legality dropped the prices.

Yes sir, I also claimed it...