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I kept making those drives to the country boys through the Kentucky backroads—trip after trip—until August hit, and the quality began to drop. That’s the nature of outdoor. Outdoor, my favorite bud. Nothing like an organic outdoor grow. Mother Nature at her best, but at this time the harvest was coming to a close. Even the best plugs run dry eventually. The flower starts to feel …

The drive had become second nature. Country roads. Cell service dropping off. White knuckles on the steering wheel. A silence between songs that hung in the car like fog. Just me, my thoughts, and the low hum of tires eating miles on the backroads of Kentucky. I was a regular by this point. Like a milkman or the trash guy—always showing up at the same place, same time, without question. Exce …