A lonesome cone sourced from a homegrown zone. This opinion piece is hardly a poem. Praise bush, and bush alone.
A Great Big Bushy Beard
Australians all let us rejoice,
For not only do we live in a land where the internet is just as slow and laggy as our political leaders,
We also have a proud and storied tradition of taking the privileges we enjoy on a daily basis utterly for granted.
Perhaps no phenomenon in our cultural landscape is so indicative of this tendency as the humble cone of bush weed.
The vast majority of us may not think it’s anything too special. Next time you take a hit, though, you better appreciate it for what it is. Outdoor cannabis grows are rare; particularly in other, more temperate regions of the world. The folks in those regions often settle for hashish or hydroponic buds. Conversely, Australia has an ideal climate for growing an excess of dank, leafy buds outdoors, year round. This is what makes our bush weed so special. Among the best in the world, in fact.
Bush vs Hydro
Comparatively, it’s not difficult to appreciate your average Aussie bush when compared to a lot of the hydroponic stuff floating around on the streets. From the author’s experience, this is particularly true in major capital cities like Brisbane, where he has observed that some people are quite keen on handing off PGR buds (Plant Growth Regulators). Experiences between the two are night and day; you can tell by the quality of the high.
It’s always depressing to resign oneself to a subpar smoke… You really don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone.
Also, maybe it’s just me – but bush seems to have a highly sentimental and nostalgic character. It takes me back to when I first began my adventures with weed. It still has a real sense of place and time to me; its smell and taste reminds me of that part of the world I live in. It links me to experiences I’ve had with bush in the past, out with my friends, smoking joints by the beach or on the main street of Nimbin.
Bush weed is as true-blue Aussie as Steve Irwin plastered on a Sunday arvo boxing a kangaroo whilst caked in a mixture of pavlova, Tim-Tams and Vegemite on toast (in the afterlife, of course – we wouldn’t want to be ridiculous, after all). If God exists, Australian bush weed stands as circumstantial evidence — along with the engineering wonder that is the Gatorade bottle. It is my working theory that the act of smoking fat cones is merely a primordial ritual that unifies the fundamental elements of earth, wind, water and fire in our daily lives. And I’m sure the ancient aliens factor into this somehow. Thank you.