I was raised in farming country, on a farm much like any other.
My parents grew crops and had livestock, all the typical farmyard jive.
It wasn’t until I started going to school that my parents told me not to talk about certain parts of the farm. I had no idea what they were talking about at the time, but they said some plants were considered “bad” and we weren’t allowed to grow them. I was smart enough to listen, even if I didn’t understand, and I kept the secret of my parents marijuana farm for many years. When I was a teenager I knew exactly what it was all about, and why I couldn’t talk about it, but I also had access to limitless cannabis. I had to work the crops, but working in marijuana farm is sort of a dream come true for a lot of teenagers… and adults, too! If you are wondering about the police presence, well there wasn’t much of one aside from Deputy Bill, who bought cannabis from my folks a couple of times a month. They gave him a big discount, of course, but Bill was a polite guy who wasn’t looking for a bribe, just a cheap source of marijuana for he and his wife. Country folk are good folk, so no one seemed to mind my folks growing marijuana, so long as everyone was very quiet about it. It was an open secret, so to speak, and we had some neighbors who would even trade meat, milk, and fresh veggies for marijuana.