apothecary

2benubee, I don't think its the Nymphaea spp. The only review on herbalistics for the extract reads: "Tea from this is quite bitter, but some honey easily rectifies this. A little too harsh to smoke any.."

friendly, a few questions. What kind of extraction are you using? Are the psychoactives in the plant material simply alcohol soluble, or do they require a more advanced extraction? If so, are we talking nonpolar/polar, or acid/base? How easy is the plant to grow? Are the flowers of similar shape/size/texture to cannabis?

nabraxas, my post was in reply to the paragraph: "This suggests that these choco-cannabinoids don't create a new high so much as they tend to prolong the old one. Hence, the long smooth buzz after chowing down a good wack of homegrown baking." not related to smoking or anything. Like I said, I figure it has more to do with the THC being in your system for longer, than the chocolate, in the case of the brownies. My bad. I should've been more specific. Smogs, yeah sorry, I meant ounces, not pounds.

I'd imagine the length of the high has less to do with how much chocolate is in the brownie, and more to do with the THC simply being in your system for longer (when activated then eaten, the high can last up to 6 hours). I'm not saying it has no effect on the length of the high, just that its unlikely the chocolate contained in one brownie is enough to potentiate the high for a noticably longer period. If friendly's figures are right, and you need 1-2 pounds of chocolate, you'd be eating a crapload of those brownies. I can't usually get past two! By the time the second one kicks in, I'm rolling on the floor cackling about some noise the computer made. [ 09. February 2005, 07:30: Message edited by: apothecary ]

Well thats good to hear. I get paid on Wednesday/Thursday (first paycheck from my dream job!) so I'll be ordering asap. What about the shade question? Do they absolutely need full sunlight all day? Can I get away with half half?

As far as my research indicates, opium is only found in the milky latex of the seedpod. There are other alkaloids, and whatever else is the precursor to opium, but imo nothing of interest in an ethnobotanical sense. You should let your poppies grow to maturity regardless, so you can pick the most vigorous one to be kept for seeds rather than its opium. Simple natural selection. Next planting, or year, depending on whether you grow indoors or out, the seeds will be from the biggest plant. Then you can pick the biggest from those, etc. After a few crops, you can have poppies that would rival those grown in Afghanistan.

nabraxas, I thought LSD was infinitely soluble in water? If moisture gets into the packaging, cant you just eat the ice/drink the water?

Hi guys, I just saw the Datura stramonium v Tatula picture on the SAB shop, and I must say, it took my breath away. I'd love to grow a plant that yields such beautiful flowers. However I fear it may be too late in the season to plant. Questions: Is it? If so, can it be grown in a pot indoors? Will it flower in a pot? If it isn't too late, and I plant a seed or two say within 2 weeks from now (taking into account order/delivery time) and it takes a few weeks to sprout, what kind of location can it be grown in? Will it grow well in a spot that only gets sunlight for a portion of the day? Full shade? Any advice appreciated, even if it's to tell me to stop asking all the questions.

The trip there was something of a journey for me. It had been a week since I had met with my friend Mary, and ever since my first meeting with uncle LSD, the ability to see natures beauty had become easier to me. Mary quite overpowered me and my brain gasped for a gap in the visual and auditory stimulation going on as we drove to the place. When we arrived, my mind was in a whole other plane. The beauty of the world had become so apparent, so lucid, that I was blown away as we stepped into the various half cylinder greenhouses. The surreal form of many of the cacti increased this feeling even more and I feel that if my friends weren't there holding me to reality I might have stayed for many hours examining and enjoying the cacti's presence. Even now as I look at those photos, or just out into my garden my mind gasps a little for breath. Mary is really becoming a gateway to epiphany and revelation for me. I don't think I'll ever forget today.

So it's Saturday. I've been tired after a week of work. My Friday night stress levels were high. I talked to a friend on the internet, we went and saw my friend Mary, and then drove up to Llandilo or whatever. I found this place: http://www.cactus-mall.com/hamilton/ "Hamilton's World of Cacti". I was intruiged. I was looking for something interesting. That place is fucking cool. They have everything. Some of the most beautiful succulents I've ever seen. Many lophpophora's although I didn't see any williamsi or diffusa (although there were other very similar looking ones with the only difference being they were covered in spines). There are many beautiful succulents there also, including one that grows like a pebble, then splits perfectly in the middle and another "pebble" grows out of that. Others that looked very much like our native Warratahs. That was the problem, of all the cacti they had (very many) not many of them were marked. In the end, I decided on these two. Trichocereus bridgesii var monstrose, penis plants. /applications/core/interface/imageproxy/imageproxy.php?img=http://members.optusnet.com.au/sina.s/000_0298.JPG&key=304eb1a12b73adf53da9de622b81da77b238d2e5a8081d18d9a944e8523d5b43 /applications/core/interface/imageproxy/imageproxy.php?img=http://members.optusnet.com.au/sina.s/000_0299.JPG&key=ed7bd0545d40065460da1532bbd148147aa828cdb862cc8d43784b830f7957a3 /applications/core/interface/imageproxy/imageproxy.php?img=http://members.optusnet.com.au/sina.s/000_0300.JPG&key=550ca6b04e2a249990ab7da22cf919652f38c5f87012ca56b424b418b630bd9d /applications/core/interface/imageproxy/imageproxy.php?img=http://members.optusnet.com.au/sina.s/000_0301.JPG&key=1631f68cca88ce8a20d184eb0b92017b100b8b777da573d8d4d806f423ea8787 If you're in Sydney and enjoy the look of cacti, maybe you should go look them up! [ 05. February 2005, 14:45: Message edited by: apothecary ]

planthelper, plant biology 101, if it isn't burning or stress, yellowing in the lower leaves usually indicates a deficiency as the plant consumes its older vegetation to keep its nutrient supplies at an appropriate level.

My gnome showed me the leaf, it matches the description of salvia d. perfectly. Smooth dark green etc, just no serrations. He decided to be stupid and smoke it anyway, just to see what would happen, one bowl in his billy and one from his pipe and said there were some "threshhold" effects, but that could've been the smoke inhalation coupled with his headache. (My gnome gets headaches if he doesn't eat healthily during the day).

I asked my gnome, he said he was too excited to remember to check the stem. He said it is a fact he knows from many trips to the erowid vault, but he forgot. I'll tell him to check on Monday morning, he may even be eager enough to go down during the weekend.

My gnome found a few plants that resembles salvia divinorum very much on the way home from his work. He took a leaf, and here are the photos. He'd like someone to ID it if possible. It looks very much like the salvia leaves on erowid, I think, except its edges aren't serrated. If it isn't possible to ID, I'm sure my gnome can take photos of the plants in their entirety on Monday morning. The thing that caught my gnomes attention were the leaves, and the fact that it was leaning deeply, supported on a stake. My gnome knows that salvia propagates by falling over and laying roots where it hits the ground. /applications/core/interface/imageproxy/imageproxy.php?img=http://members.optusnet.com.au/sina.s/possible_s1.jpg&key=6799ed6b5244cf68c06af927a8873910ed24cfe89be944aae99d21a2ccce96e6 /applications/core/interface/imageproxy/imageproxy.php?img=http://members.optusnet.com.au/sina.s/possible_s2.jpg&key=a81bb0853eab3af172bcc6f413e68c935261c6972ba8518bdd90a9db4596eeea Any ID appreciated. [ 04. February 2005, 16:06: Message edited by: apothecary ]

Torsten, although you don't live in Sydney, you may be interested to know the entire suburb of Lindfield is covered in members of the Convolucae (sp?) family. I saw several Ipomoea's including the one you show. When you're driving past, it looks very much like the HBWR photo on the SAB store. I had to stop and get out to realise it wasn't. Out of curiosity, do all the Ipomoea's contain psychoactives? I noticed that heaps of them seem to grow the exact same types of flowers, only small variations between the different species, but I'm not sure how indicative this is of psychoactivity...

smogs at least you can be happy in the fact that if they do decide to consume it, theres a good chance the plant will extract its own revenge on their minds. The guy who said "there is no hell greater than a guilty conscience" obviously didn't know about mescaline.

devils_cactus, to quote a reference on alkaloidal extraction (I believe DMT). "The thing is, almost all fun plant alkaloids (except maybe THC) are nitrogen based. This means you have to do pretty much the same extraction on all of them." An acid/base extraction isn't specific to just mescaline. People use it to extract most fun bits out of their ethnobotanics using an acid/base extraction. [ 01. February 2005, 20:29: Message edited by: apothecary ]

Lifted from here: http://slashdot.org/comments.pl?sid=137710...ad&cid=11515533 ________________________ Three years ago, you were relaxing in the back seat of your limousine, on your way to wherever. Your driver was new and a little experienced, but you hired him anyway because his dad had been your driver, and you thought it'd be novel to create a dynasty. After a few minutes of idly chit chatting with him about how many STRONG, DECENT values he had, and his tough-minded, John Wayne-esque common sensitude, you were attacked by a hulking, swampy-skinned man eating monster with big teeth and all the scaly, terrifying trimmings you'd expect. The thing blitzed through the passenger window nearest you and took your arm off before retreating into it's hole across the ocean. All this happened too quickly for your driver to react, but after 7 minutes he drove you to the hospital and said something inspiring. A few days later your driver activated the missile launcher in your limousine trunk and sent one billion pounds of ordinance into the monster's hole across the ocean. The bombs didn't quite kill the monster, but dismembered parts of it's body that would take a while to grow back, and you thought that was pretty cool. You approved of your limousine driver like you'd rarely approved of others. Even the other chauffeurs competing for your business couldn't help but admire your driver's steadfast ability to knee-jerk. In the months following the incident, you slowly learned how to live again, and how to function without a left arm. However, you remained justifiably paranoid about the prospect of another limb-rending attack. So, when your driver began flail hysterically behind the wheel, warning you earnestly that ANOTHER monster had you in it's sights, he had your absolute attention. Driving you to work one day, he passed a photograph through the window separating him from your cabin. 'This is the guy, he's the one who wants to take you out. And he is absolutely capable. He's also in cahoots with the monster who took off your arm. Bear in mind though, I'm just implying this, because I need to be able to backtrack on it down the line when you realize none of it is remotely true.' You examined the picture critically. It was a picture of a small crippled mouse riding an inner-tube in a sea of oil, brandishing a B.B gun with all the swaggering machismo a mouse cripple in his situation could muster. In the sea floated a buoy affixed with a sign that read, 'Dear Mouse, this oil is for the children's medicine. KEEP OUT. Thanks, The U.N.' You said 'Are you sure that's the monster's associate, capable of inflicting equal or greater damage? From my vantage he looks like a small, insignificant mouse cripple with a king's hoarde of natural resources that he's denied access to by the world community.' Your chauffeur turned to face you, and furrowed his gray-splattered eyebrows in such a way that they looked simultaneously grizzled, wise, and empathetic, 'Mushroom clouds are certainly an amazing thing. How would you like to see one sprout, ON YOUR FACE!? That's what you're in for if we don't get this mouse before he develops nuclear weapons.' 'Well them I'm down!' you shouted, 'Let's do some warring!' 'Ho-yah! I concur!' grunted a microphone wielding man in the seat next to you, hoisting a backpack stuffed with an inflatable cameraman onto his bent knees. The press. 'How'd you get in here?' you jerk back a little like a man in an electric chair. 'Oh, I invited him!' shouted your chauffeur over the increasingly loud engine hum. 'He'll show the world how you're like one of those tough young boppers who Saved The World ™ during the 1940s. We're thinking of surgically affixing a hardscrabble five O' clock shadow to your face. What do you think, Pressy?' 'I'm going to be like like Edward R. Murrow,' yipped the newsman in beaming oblivion, 'But with pomade!' 'Yes you are,' agreed your driver, 'And this is going to be a war that values the sanctity of human life like precious Jesus on earth. You know that, right?' So sayethed the newsman.'Yessir. Strength, pride, solemn whathaveyou, got it. Do I get an army hat?' Answered your driver, 'I need your newscasts to be interceded with at least two dozen patriotic country songs every five minutes, then the hat is yours. I'll even include some dapper insignia if you can convince Toby Keith to do one about me, and the way that I'm reminiscent of John Wayne's STREGNTH. My giant belt buckle is a lot like a crotch.' 'I'm a crusading investigative journalist! I can do it!' At this point you began to feel moderately uncomfortable, surrounded by absolute screeching batshit lunatics, even; but before you could voice it, you felt the limo come to a metal-on-metal halt. 'We're here!' shouted your driver through the limo's humid, nervy atmosphere-- a veritable forest of freefalling goosepimple. The newsman squealed like a kid on a merry go round, bouncing up and down while working the release clasp on his inflatable cameraman backpack. He threw the bag to the cabin floor, where it began to hiss and balloon, and then the newsman suddenly dissolved into a viscous wax that slithered through the porthole in the limo's privacy window, into the passenger seat-- where the goop rematerialized into the cap-toothed reporter, making a sound like hydrogen peroxide sizzle. Quickly afterward, the cameraman was fully inflated, sticking his lens through the privacy window, getting your driver's vantage. Video screens dropped from the ceiling above you in a mechanical ballet. One displayed the feed being broadcast by the cameraman, still more showed various exciting satellite overviews, and the rest brought you pundits with coordinated messages of the day. 'This mouse is a monster I'm sure.' 'This mouse is a monster I'm sure.' 'This mouse is a monster I'm sure.' Inches in front of your limo lay the oil field, a dirty-honey expanse sprawling lustrously past the edge of the world. Your limousine's leather seats began to drool. A camera fell from the ceiling and gave you a profile view of your driver. He thrust his well-bred chin up to god's feet and proclaimed, 'I have a dream, that months ago you had a day that will live in INFAMY, and I hold these truths to be self-evident that you gotta RESPECT YOSELF! HEY HEY! and in doing so TEAR DOWN this mouse-monster and his many walls!' Charged by the mania of everything and inspired, you thought adoringly of Toby Kieth, shouting 'Let's Roll!' A black gravel land bridge stretched out to the center of the oil sea, connecting with a small island. The width of the bridge easily accommodated your limo. You rolled. Quoth the newsman, seen face first on one of the screens, 'Now we've been informed by people very high up in the limousine driving administration,' he paused, winked expressively and pointed toward the driver, 'that although the vile fiend we are attacking in the cause of UNFREE FREEDOM is surrounded by innocent mice, all possible efforts will be made to ensure they remain unharmed. We have the technological know-how for this. We've also been assured that this entire conflict will last a matter of minutes, as we know exactly where the BABY-MAULING BUTCHER OF MONSTER MOUSE ISLAND is, and we can use the black ops you've read about in Tom Clancy novels to take him out cleanly, from distant, air conditioned safety. Once this is accomplished we'll be able to dust our hands off and ride into the sunset like the magnificent heroes of spaghetti lore that we are.' You welled up briefly, thinking about how good a person you were, making sure to hurt the mouse innocents as unintentionally as possible. They were just as much victims as you, after all. Lesser beings maybe, considering their barbaric cultural practices. Considering also their tendency to waggle their forefingers obnoxiously while bleating sub-moronic slogans that highlighted the religious virtue of your death. But even slaughterhouse cows had rights! You didn't really look at the curious charred mouse skeletons littering the road, covered in depleted uranium. The little mouse city was havoc; you ascertained that much immediately as your limo came to a bristling halt on it's outskirts. Frenzied mice scampered over one another in every direction trying to find a direction that didn't lead to you. 'Woo!' your driver hollered while at the same time managing to rustically balance a barleystalk across his lower lip in a way that perfectly expressed the simple virtue of Americana, 'The Motherfucker is in there somewhere!' Excitedly, he slammed his surgery enhanced palm down on a large red button positioned on the limousine dashboard's dead center. The vehicle's headlamps swung open and outward like doors. Long, thin metallic barrels began to forebodingly extend from the space the lamps had covered. Red stencil lettering on their sides read 'Precision Flamethrower Delivery Mechanism'. Permanent marker scrawl on one barrel read 'Bite off this, GODLESS SODOMITES BASTARDS.' Your driver grabbed his crotch and floored it. The ride got awfully bumpy as your ride began to mow over mice. And their pained screams got awfully noisy as your twin flamethrower cannons immolated about 5,000 of them. On one of the video screens, you saw a few of their burning skeletal forms scamper onto the limosuine's front windshield. They left black gristle marks as the inertia from your driver's wild maneuvers slid them off. Your driver began to reflect on your progress, 'This is a good, strong, honest...DIE MOTHERFUCKERS!' Your stomach lurched as the limo hooked dramatically; a rapid succession of bumps followed. The newsman squealed some more,'This is spectacular, this is wonderful. Omigod it's like SEX, but romantic!' You began to have second thoughts, you couldn't shake the nagging feeling you'd crossed some kind of threshold of humanity, and you'd actually be held accountable for it at some point. Your skin took on a nervous white pallor. The newsman noticed. 'It's okay!' sweaty and glowing, he shouted at you over explosions and dying, 'These are the ones who wanted to fight us! They are the BAD ones.' 'Oh!' You regained some color. Relieved, you continued to feel like a good person. Toby Kieth played in the background: 'You know I played semi-pro football a while And know I just cannot help but smile When we kill goddam mice who bite off our arms You know I been all over this big world And I think you're a naive little girl Crying foul while I kill mice and munch on cigars Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh, look at my muscles they qualify me To make wide-reaching decisions on global policy Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh, look at my belt buckle scream 'kick ass!' I have god's honest rage in my thick walrus mustache your limo driver is STREGNTH just like John Wayne ! tears fall from my eyes while I scream it so plain! He's just like you, honest and common, morals morals precious children.....' ---- At the end of the day, there wasn't too much left. Half of everything was blown to shit. Everything else was covered in shit, because you'd blown up every branch of the Mouse Island Sanitation Department. Your limo crept slowly through the wreckage now, and mice missing legs and arms and ears scuttled out of your way. Every now and again one of them would throw a grenade at you. 'Foreign agitators, desperate hold-outs,' your driver and newsman muttered in unison every time it happened. For a year. In the madness of the conflict your driver had actually captured the mouse monster, and now he sat screaming like a buffoon in the trunk of your limousine, sealed inside a shoebox. Your driver had taken the opportunity to affix a sticker to your rear windshield that read, 'We win. We rule. I declare now is the time for us to thrust our pelvises.' You never found the mouse monster's nuclear weapons, but your driver seemed unphased. 'It's ok,' he explained, gesticulating with sharp, go-getting confidence, 'The weapons thing was secondary. The real reason we came here was too bring these ignorant mice democracy. Good, strong democracy.' 'And how's that working out?' queried the newsman. Your driver glared at him for a moment before willing himself to look thoughtful and optimistic, answering, 'Well, we're making good, strong honest progress, Pressy. In fact I'd call it decent, firm progress.' Another grenade rocked your limo, and from a distance you could hear a choir of squeaky mouse voices chanting, 'Death to the humans! Death the the humans! Mouse-Allah is great!' Great. And it was into about the third minute of that chanting that you glimpsed an expression of worry and confusion poking through your driver's facade of godsent confidence. At that moment, half of you realized what the other half refused to believe: The man had no clue what the hell he was doing. Nobody could. Another grenade rocked your limo and you began to accept it as the way things worked. You decided maybe things could work differently if you hired another driver. But then a miracle! The fumes from the mouse droppings that coated the city began to behave strangely. They swirled exotically and jetted in from points all over the city to meet at a point just in front of your limo, where they began to coalesce in a vortex. As this body became denser, it's particulates began to take on a crystalline shape and luster. In an explosion of light and sherbet color, a tiny creature no bigger than a hand was formed. It had dove-white skin, a star-tipped wand that seemed a geyser for pretty sparkles, and wings. Pinned to it's chest was a nametag that read 'The Democracy Fairy' 'Hello!' it's voice was a girlish kazoo, 'I am the democracy fairy! I am here to magically imbue these mice with a deep understanding of the workings and necessities of civil civilization! Yes I am!' She waved her wand and the mice stopped throwing grenades at you. She waved it again and the streets were clean and shiny. She waved it again and the dead mice rose. She waved it again and you were teleported from your limo to the middle of a verdant, rainbow-lit pasture, hands joined in a circle with the mice, your driver, your newsman and that wacky Mouse Monster, singing: ; 'Hey, let's get together I'll be your vicious horde teeming and chattering filth and you'll be mine We're good people No, really We're part of Something big, something that makes grandma voter turn her head upward and purse her lips and cry 'NO! NO!' as she shakes her head in 'I WILL NOT HEAR IT' defiance when she's told by a million she's killing her grandkids we'll cry for our heroism and write songs where our voices quaver at the point where the mother gravely lays a saltwater soiled hand on the flag-draped coffin We're good people No, really' It was beautiful. And to top it off you found a twenty dollar bill on the floor, and the sweatheart you'd let get away appeared in front of you and asked for your hand. And that's all fantastic, and it's wonderful how things managed to work out, but the question still remains: Do you want to let this jackass drive you anywhere else ever again?

Fraker, it's true. Even water can be used as a polar solvent. You just want something that evaporates cleanly and quickly. creach, as requested I have done a bit of research, apart from the one article on erowid. The problem that appears is that many people have mixed up their info on Ipomea spp. and Argyreia nervosa. However, I've managed to split some of thie info up, I think appropriately. I used the Argyreia Nervosa wikipedia entry as a starting point. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Argyreia_nervosa Then worked from there. I came across hundreds of entries that all had nothing more than a footnote saying "it contains cyanide!" or similar. Example, down the bottom of this page listing the alkaloidal content of various parts of the plant: http://www.tacethno.com/info/ipomoea/seed-...d-alkaloids.txt (scroll down for A. nervosa info) Most of the posts seemed almost entirey inconclusive. Then I came across this one: http://www.iamshaman.com/hbwr/convolvulaceae.htm Characteristic of most of the ethneogenic posts on any plant, it's a horrible hodgepodge of information taken from several places. The information is all from scientific/botanical referneces, but the author clearly had little idea of what he was researching. However, there is one chunk of the post that says something definitive regardless of whether applied to Ipomea spp. or Argyreia Nervosa, (as they are both part of the Convolvulaceae family): "Family characterization: Vines with milky sap; showy, actinomorphic, funnelform to salverform, plicate corolla with induplicate-valvate and/or convolute aestivation; 5 epipetalous stamens; 2-carpellate ovary with axile placentation; septifragal capsule; and large embryo with folded, often bifid cotyledons. Various alkaloids and cyanogenic glycosides present. Tissues commonly with calcium oxalate crystals. Anatomical features: articulated latex canals or latex cells; intraxyl-ary phloem in the petiole (bicollateral bundles) and stem (Fig. 99: <___base_url___>/uploads/emoticons/default_cool.png; and unitegmic, generally tenuinucel-late ovules." That's definitive enough for me. But for the sake of completeness, I'll include some anecdotal evidence from the same page: http://www.iamshaman.com/hbwr/hbwrmyths.htm You'll notice they go ahead and dispel the myth about the seed coating causing sickness. They challenge the myth about strychnine in the seeds. They say nothing about the cyanogenic glycosides. I'm sure they would've said something on it if they didn't believe it. As an aside, that page says that the part of the seeds that causes sickness is the essential oils in the seeds. Doesn't that kind of mean that a polar/nonpolar extracted product would still cause nausea? In that case, it means just like most other plants, an acid/base extraction is required. Interesting.

I think theres a definite pattern emerging here. There are both simple and difficult methods of extraction. Stroodes, while your method most probably works (taking your gnomes experience into account) I get the feeling that you dont get as much LSA in your finished product as say with a polar/nonpolar extraction using ether and alcohol or a full acid/base extraction. I wouldn't try it with Ipomea spp. but I guess HBWR could cut it, considering almost triple the amount of amides. I wonder if the extraction method has any effect on the durability of the extract. If you consider it, an almost pure extract of LSA would be very sensitive to light, heat, etc. The cruder the extract, the less exposure to light, etc. These are all interesting questions, my gnome tells me he is very anxious for his pay to come through so he can start experimenting. As a side question, what would you guys recommend for my gnome? Morning glories require many, many more seeds, but contain no cyanide glucocamides or whatever. HBWR only requires 5-10 seeds, but theres the chance of of ingesting the above chemical along with the good stuff. Time isn't an issue, my gnome isn't really looking just to get off, just curious how far his conciousness goes.

I didn't think you'd be able to get ethanol that simply. Torsten, back to the original question, can I use isopropyl? Or is it dangerous?

Hmm...where is it available? I emailed a chemical supplies retailer and got this reply: "Thanks for the enquiry. We have both denatured and un. To buy un, you will need a license from the ATO, but you can get a license for 20lts per year fairly easily. Our undenatured is very high grade - 99.9%. No impurities. Same with the denatured. Very high grade, with just the denaturants added. We can sell this to you straight out. Available as 1ltr or 2.5ltr in small pack sizes." Where can one obtain 100% undenatured ethanol? Denatured ethanol is available from most hardware stores, but is also highly poisonous.

Quick question. Can Isopropyl 99% be used as the polar liquid section of the nonpolar/polar extraction of LSA from HWBR/Morning Glory seeds? (as opposed to say, ethanol, or methanol). Any replies appreciated.

Thanks again Torsten. You keep posting replies that informative, and I might have to marry you or something :D

My Catha Edulis plant turned up in the mail today (second order from SAB, I love you guys). Few questions. 1. How long can I leave it in the little pot it came in? 2. When I transplant, should it be to a bigger pot, or into the ground. 3. Should I keep it in direct sunlight all day, or an area that gets sunlight and some shade during the day too. 4. When I transplant, what kind of soil should it be into? I have some normal potting mix, some cactus mix I got from Bunnings, and just some rough garden soil. I've read quite a few guides on growing C. Edulis, but I just thought I'd verify some things I wasn't 100% on. [ 18. January 2005, 16:44: Message edited by: apothecary ]