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Pine Tar seeds. God, even the name sticks to your tongue like resin on fingertips. You crack open the bag and it hits you—earth, pine, something almost feral. Not sweet. Not fruity. This isn’t your trendy dispensary hybrid with a name like “Blueberry Dream Pop.” Nah. Pine Tar’s old-school. Gritty. Smells like a forest floor after rain, like the inside of a lumberjack’s flannel. You don’t grow this strain because it’s cute—you grow it because it’s real.
Indica-leaning, yeah, but don’t let that lull you into thinking it’s some sleepy couch-lock nonsense. This stuff’ll wrap around your spine and squeeze. Heavy body, sure, but there’s a clarity in the head high that’s… weirdly sharp. Like getting punched by a monk. Meditative but brutal. I’ve seen people smoke it and just stare at the wall for an hour, smiling like they figured out the meaning of life. Or maybe they just forgot what they were doing. Same difference.
Growing it? Not for the faint-hearted. She’s sticky—like, ruin-your-scissors sticky. The kind of plant that gums up your trimmers and makes you curse halfway through harvest. But the yield? Decent. Not massive. Just enough to make you feel like you earned it. The buds are dense, dark, sometimes almost purple if you treat her right. And the smell during flower? Jesus. You’ll need a carbon filter unless you want your whole block asking questions.
It’s got this lineage that goes way back—Afghani roots, supposedly. You can feel it in the smoke. That ancient, hashy undertone. Makes you wanna roll it in a joint the size of your thumb and just… disappear for a while. Not a party strain. Not a “let’s go hiking” strain. This is a “lock the door, turn off your phone, and listen to old records” kind of high. Maybe cry a little. Maybe laugh. Maybe both.
Honestly, I think Pine Tar’s one of those strains that doesn’t care if you like it. It’s not trying to impress you. It’s not here to win awards or go viral on Instagram. It’s just… itself. Raw. Unapologetic. Like nature before we started naming everything.
Anyway. If you’re looking for something polished and pretty—keep walking. But if you want something that hits like a memory you forgot you had? Plant the seed. Wait. And when it blooms, don’t say I didn’t warn you.