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Mendo Montage Seeds. Just saying the name feels like you’re already halfway into a foggy NorCal forest, boots wet, heart thumping. These aren’t your average backyard beans—this is legacy stuff. Old-school Humboldt meets mad scientist. It’s got that sticky, skunky, berry-funk lineage that makes growers grin and trimmers curse under their breath. You know the type.
They come from Bodhi Seeds—yeah, that Bodhi. The guy’s a wizard. Mendo Purps crossed with a Pine Tar Kush, if you wanna get technical. But honestly, screw the genetics chart for a sec. What matters is what it does. This plant grows like it’s got something to prove. Dense, dark, purpled-out nugs that smell like a fruit stand got hit by a diesel truck. And the high? It’s like… warm molasses poured over your brain. Slow, heavy, but not dumb. You’ll forget what you were saying mid-sentence and not even care. Kinda beautiful, really.
Some folks say it’s finicky. I say it’s got personality. Doesn’t like too much water, wants a little stress—like it thrives on drama. But give it the right touch, and it’ll reward you with buds that look like they were dipped in sugar and rolled in velvet. Indoor or out, it performs. Though, let’s be real, this plant wants the sun. Wants the wind. Wants to stretch its legs and get weird.
I’ve seen people baby it. I’ve seen people abuse it. And somehow, it still comes out swinging. Not the biggest yielder, sure—but what it lacks in bulk, it makes up for in punch. This isn’t for commercial ops chasing weight. It’s for heads. For connoisseurs. For the ones who still talk about strains like they’re old friends or ex-lovers.
And the smell—Jesus. Open a jar and it’s like someone cracked a grape soda can next to a campfire. Sweet, smoky, earthy, loud. It lingers. In your clothes, your hair, your soul maybe. Makes you nostalgic for something you never actually experienced. Like a memory from a past life where you were barefoot in Mendocino, high as hell, watching the fog roll in.
Would I grow it again? Yeah. Every damn season if I could. It’s not perfect. But that’s the point. It’s moody, unpredictable, kind of a diva. But when it hits—when it really hits—it’s magic. Pure, uncut, forest-born magic.
So yeah. Mendo Montage. Not for the faint-hearted. But if you know, you know.