When the Harvest is Hunted

Trailing hot on the heels of September’s Harvest Moon, October’s Hunter stalked the sky last night using occasional clouds for camouflage. The waning of the one and the waxing of the other has significance for those who nestle their cabins deep in the Humboldt Hills.

Dirt roads, that have been relatively quiet, fill with traffic. The pungent scent of freshly cut marijuana wafts from unexpected sources—a passing car, a well cared for home, and an older neighbor’s pink sweater. Certain switchbacks have their own smell. I have heard it remarked that traveling up the back roads around here is like taking a fragrant tour of the local product. If you inhale deeply enough at the right moment, you can taste the flavor of each grower’s creation.

Now that October and its full moon are waning, the traffic will slow to a trickle and the scents will become infrequent. Once again I will recognize nearly every car but the hidden life in these hills will again be veiled and the complexity and richness disguised. Once again this will be an underground community, its life carried on in secret. That has its own beauty

……but I will miss October.


I held this piece for several days. There are many reasons not to publish it. But in the end, living in Humboldt and not talking about marijuana is like living with an elephant and pretending it doesn’t exist. So, in my humble way I’m following in All in the Family’s footsteps and you just heard the toilet flush for the first time;>

Photo Credit to Brian D Buck who passed away 4/8/2005


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