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Lemon Tag Seeds

Lemon Tag seeds. Man, where do I even start with these little bastards?

First time I cracked one open—just a single seed, mind you—it smelled faintly like someone had zested a lemon over a pine forest. Not strong. Just a whisper. But it stuck in my nose for hours. That’s the thing with this strain: it sneaks up on you. Doesn’t shout. Doesn’t need to.

Grow-wise? It’s a bit of a diva. Not the worst I’ve dealt with, but don’t expect her to thrive on neglect. She wants attention. Not constant, but… rhythmic. Like she knows when you’re slacking. One week you forget to check pH, next week she’s throwing yellow tantrums. But when she’s happy? Oh, she sings. Fast grower, tight nodes, and those buds—sticky, dense, like someone dipped popcorn in citrus syrup and rolled it in glittery resin.

Smoke hits different. Not couch-locky, not racey either. Somewhere in the middle, like your brain’s been cleaned with lemon-scented Windex. You’re awake, but soft around the edges. Creative, maybe. Or just chatty. Depends on the day. I’ve had sessions where I wrote four pages of nonsense poetry, and others where I just stared at my cat and laughed until my ribs hurt. It’s unpredictable. That’s part of the charm.

Flavor’s where it really punches. Not just lemon—more like lemon peel, bitter and bright, with this weird diesel funk underneath. Like someone spilled Sprite on a mechanic’s jumpsuit. Sounds gross. Tastes amazing. And the exhale? Smooth as hell. No throat burn, no cough fits. Just a warm slide into mellow.

Now, I’ve heard folks say it’s a hybrid, but honestly, it leans sativa in the head and indica in the bones. Best of both, if you ask me. But don’t ask a dispensary clerk—they’ll give you some rehearsed spiel about “balanced effects” and “uplifting euphoria.” Screw that. This is a strain for people who want to feel weird in a good way. Like, “I just reorganized my spice rack by emotional resonance” weird.

Oh—and yields? Decent. Not massive, not skimpy. You’ll get what you put in. Treat her right, she’ll reward you. Slack off, and she’ll sulk. Fair trade, I guess.

Would I grow Lemon Tag again? Hell yes. Not because it’s easy. Not because it’s trendy. But because it’s got personality. And in a sea of cookie-cutter strains with names like “Purple Jet Fuel Dreamcake,” that actually means something.

Anyway. That’s my take. Take it or leave it. Just don’t sleep on Lemon Tag. She’s got claws under that citrus smile.