Oregrown’s High Desert Sour Sage shatter is a sativa-dominant hybrid with an impressive lineage. Parent strains Sour Diesel and S.A.G.E. (Sativa Afghani Genetic Equilibrium) are both infamous for their long-lasting, worry-erasing highs as well as their distinct flavor profiles. High Desert Sour Sage inherited almost everything save for the super distinct nose. Unless I was having a sensory off day, both the perfume and the mouthfeel of this extract were just plain mild. The lack of a hackle-raising stink didn’t strike me as a negative since the 77.1% THC knocked the wind out of me regardless of what that wind smelled and tasted like.

Oregrown’s organic, low-temp, whole-bud extraction process results in gorgeous, full-bodied, richly flavored extractions with the potential to knock you off your feet. For me, High Desert Sour Sage had me laid out after one dab roughly three-quarters the size of a grain of rice, but when I recalibrated that dose ever so slightly, I ended up with the most brilliantly social high I’ve had in a very long time. For some, a deeply intoxicating swoon that resolves itself into something witty and chatty is an ideal high, and I respect that. But personally, I prefer skipping the hurly-burly onset.

“I was euphoric but not obnoxiously so. I was sybaritic but not lewdly so. ”

My first session with High Desert Sour Sage was defined by an onset that crept up slowly, pouncing down my throat several minutes after my dab. First came the chest-quaking cough, then a dry mouth that threatened to turn me inside out, then a mild but still domineering incapacitation that slowed me down to a snail's pace. I rode the waves of swirling introspection and double vision, resigning myself to submission when the onset suddenly evaporated. I anticipated this wild ride would have me sidelined for more than a few minutes, but a few minutes was all it took to emerge from the roller coaster bathed in golden good vibes.

There was a lush sensuality to the high—not sexual per se, but a certain romance that pervaded each moment. It was this sweetness that provoked my social streak to run wild. I was euphoric but not obnoxiously so. I was sybaritic but not lewdly so. I was present but not meditatively so. During this first rating, I noted how ideal this high would be if only I could navigate around that kick-in-the-pants onset. I made a note to adjust the next dose, and I hoped against hope that I would still reap all the distinct benefits.

During session two, I adjusted my dab by no more than a few crumbs. The onset was fractionally less debilitating, and I still enjoyed an evening of gabbing with a good friend. There were even moments during our marathon phone convo that I was compelled to break my concentration to make a note about how fantastic this high made me feel, such was the impact of this lively hybrid.

Try as I might, I could not dodge the tsunami onset, but I was able to power shift it into a sneaker wave. Either way, the subsequent high was sublime enough to make the destruction wrought a mere memory. The bottom line is the next time I set up a dab of High Desert Sour Sage, I will shave a few crumbs off my usual dose. Unless I’m chasing oblivion, that is. In that case, I’ll just sit back and enjoy the swoon.