![]() Does the taste of the flower bring to mind the Bazooka Bubble Gum pieces my friends and I used to buy by the handful from the neighborhood newsstand? Not necessarily, but that doesn’t make it any less pleasant. It’s a great flavor, one that lingers long after each hit as the buzzy, energizing effects of the flower take hold. Each time I packed my one-hitter with the strain, the resulting smoke tasted strongly of cinnamon with nutty and sweet undertones. Old Time Bubble Gum tastes nearly as good as it smells. It’s like the jar of potpourri your grandma keeps in her living room. It’s a deep and inviting smell, equally enticing and relaxing. Crack open a container of these buds and out wafts sweet and nutty aromas of lavender and berries. If we’re ever going to revolutionize the way people think about the scent of cannabis, a strain like Old Time Bubble Gum from Willie’s Reserve should definitely help us do so. “It’s a deep and inviting smell, equally enticing and relaxing. Will this ever change? Will we all eventually savor the skunky, resinous fragrance of cannabis plants swaying in the breeze, like we do the rich, musty aroma of an ancient wine cellar or the ripe stink of excellent Roquefort cheese? Or are our olfactory receptors destined to be intolerant long after the rest of our bodies have embraced legalized cannabis, forever linking the smell of marijuana with something bad? We just don’t want to smell it, thank you very much. We’re happy to sell as much of the stuff as possible. But the stench of marijuana? Not so much. But hardly anyone complains about this it’s part of the city’s character. It’s hard to cruise through any part of town without catching a malty, sulfury whiff of fermenting grains. The local beer industry is actually a nice comparison here. And at my gym, which is located in an industrial part of town, my colleagues are far more likely to complain about the smell of the grow facility down the way than they are about equally fragrant odors of a nearby brewing facility. I can’t count the number of times I’ve heard folks grumble about the smell of Denver cannabis greenhouses wafting through the neighborhood. It’s not just my better half who thinks this way. “Will we all eventually savor the skunky, resinous fragrance? ” In fact, it might be the last marijuana stigma remaining in these parts: the shame of its tell-tale funk. Yet many of us still wrinkle our noses at the tell-tale aroma of the unofficial state flower. Here we are in Denver, Colorado, ground zero of the Great Legal Cannabis Experiment where dispensaries are everywhere, adding billions to the local economy and millions in state and local tax revenues. She’s just worried about what the neighbors might think. She herself doesn’t really mind the smell of marijuana all that much. It’s because I’ve been smoking flower in the backyard. ![]() ![]() This isn’t a knock on my personal hygiene or choice in cologne. “You smell,” my wife tells me, giving me the side-eye. Here we are in Denver, Colorado, and yet many of us still wrinkle our noses at the tell-tale aroma of the unofficial state flower.
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