Must’ve Been the CBD

IT WAS THE MOST “COLORAD-OMG” IDEA I’d ever heard. Swing by The Farm dispensary in Boulder to pick a goody bag filled with pot products, then drive to the Lone Hawk Farm in Longmont for a garden party, yoga session, and cannabis-pairing brunch. How can you turn that down?

My invite came from the inclusive folks at Mason Jar Event Group, who like to unite people and pot in all sorts of ways — which only makes sense. Marijuana is a social movement that began with people freely passing joints to each other to build a mutually supportive buzz. And now that it’s fully legally in 10 states — and medicinally supported in 33 others — that buzz is building. Hence, Mason Jar’s brainwave to host a mellow morning, Weedstock, in Longmont.

We were under strict instructions to pick up our cannabis cornucopia by 9:15 a.m., which meant an early (for a Sunday) wake up and schlepp to Boulder from Fort Collins. All good once we found The Farm dispensary, at 2801 Iris Ave., in Boulder. Bucolic scenes graced the exterior, with a cow-hippie aesthetic on the inside. The helpful staff checked our IDs (always nice to have someone earnestly question whether you’re over 21), took our $25, and we were gifted enough weed and derivatives to pass the rest of the Trump administration in oblivion, if we feel the need. Which we do.

Intoxicants aside, my personal goody-bag favorite was a 2 oz. pot of painkilling goo from Maryjane’s Medicinals, infused with 120mg THC and 40mg CBD. I immediately slapped it onto my neck, which has been aching since the second Bush administration. I was already feeling better, and we hadn’t even reached Lone Hawk Farm.

At this point let me admit that as a relatively new resident here in marijuana heaven (Colorado), the stuff still confuses me — a lot. My lone experience with pot came as an undergraduate, when I took a few hits, watched Fantasia in a friend’s dorm room, and fell under communication lock-down for six hours. I actually like to talk, so a drug that hits my personal mute button is not likely to be my favorite. And so the potless decades passed, allowing time for me to become old, tense, grouchy and sore, which turn out to be the four things cannabis is best at curing. And because yoga and brunch also help with those things, we were heading for a new happy place!

Lone Tree Farm is down a rustic side road just east of the foothills in Longmont. If you ever want to invite 200 people to your wedding, or otherwise host a party where lots of people get f*ed up in a genteel manner, this is the place. The event hall looks like an upscale airplane hangar with a vaulted beetle-kill ceiling and a row of skylights — just right for consulting higher powers of all sorts. After we had browsed the offerings from vendors in the garden—sample T-shirt legend: “Yoga and Weed are All I Need;” don’t wear it to meet the in-laws—a hundred or so bud-brunchers were summoned to our yoga mats. We were greeted and soothed by our yogi, Larissa Ortiz, and the laid-back Brazilian ensemble, Sambadende. (The pot-yoga gig was a first for them, too; I asked.)

OK, maybe I had sampled a 5mg THC/5mg CBD chocolate-covered coffee bean from 1906, a cannabis confectioner that prides itself on that 1:1 ratio, “the way nature intended.” Clearly, nature intended me to be equal parts mellow (THC), bodily focused (CBD), and hyper-alert (caffeine), a trifecta I had never experienced in my yoga classes at the Aztlan Center in Fort Collins. But this combo worked: My downward dog had never been so dope, nor my savanasa so soothing. And I didn’t even fall asleep this time!

Next up, Chef Daniel Asher’s brunch, served at two tables that extended the length of the hall. The high-style table settings were thoughtfully augmented with a little mason jar, plus a roach clip, to help with marijuana management. After the chef shouted a welcome and urged us to live at one with the earth, we worked our way through breakfast pastries, a yogurt parfait, Belgian waffles, quinoa potato kale hash (not that other kind of hash), and shared platters of elk sausage and bacon. And occasionally, a blazing joint would make its way down the line, moving from hand to hand in a kind of cannabis communion on this Sunday morn.

Yoga, breakfast and socializing lasted into the early afternoon, by which time the effects of my buzzy bean, plus a couple of hits, had worn off, so I was sober for the drive home. Shuttle busses to Boulder and Denver accommodated those who’d gained more altitude than I.

Will bud supplant the bloody Mary as a brunch staple? I don’t think so. Personally, I’d miss the celery. But a yoga-cannabis brunch was in fact a profound celebration of our greening world, marrying herb and food in a way that makes me want to shout, “I do!” Plus I had a really awesome nap that afternoon, and the Sunday New York Times seemed a little less daunting.

Must’ve been the CBD.

For news of further cannabis events, follow Mason Jar Event Group on Facebook. You can track Sambadende at sambadende.com.

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