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Trix Seeds. Yeah, they’re a bit of a trip. Not the kind of seeds you toss in a pot and forget about—these are the ones you whisper to, check on twice a day, maybe name if you’re the sentimental type. They’ve got that sticky-sweet lineage, a hybrid that doesn’t play by the rules. Fruity pebbles on the nose, but with a punch that’ll make your knees reconsider their job. You smell it and think, “Oh, this’ll be fun.” Then you smoke it and forget what you were talking about mid-sentence. Beautiful chaos.
They’re not beginner seeds. Let’s just get that out there. You can try, sure, but don’t come crying when your grow tent turns into a jungle with attitude. These plants stretch. They don’t ask permission. You give them space, they take more. Indoors or out, they’ll test your patience, your lighting setup, your entire sense of control. But damn if they don’t reward you for the effort. Dense buds, frosted like they’ve been dipped in sugar and left out in the cold. And the smell? Like someone smashed a fruit cart into a candy shop and lit it on fire. In a good way.
I’ve grown them once. Maybe twice. The first time was a disaster—overfed them, got cocky, ended up with crispy leaves and a yield that made me want to cry into my trim bin. Second time, I listened. Let them do their thing. Fed light, pruned less, let the stretch happen. They thanked me with a harvest that smelled like nostalgia and hit like a freight train. I’m not exaggerating. One joint and I was horizontal, watching ceiling shadows like they were telling secrets.
Some folks say Trix is too much—too sweet, too strong, too unpredictable. Maybe. But that’s the point. It’s not for everyone. It’s for the ones who want their weed to have personality, maybe even a little attitude. You don’t grow Trix to blend in. You grow it because you want to remember why you started growing in the first place. For the weirdness. For the challenge. For the high that makes you laugh at your own thoughts.
Oh—and the seeds themselves? Not always easy to find. They pop up, disappear, come back under a different breeder’s label. You’ve got to keep your ear to the ground, or just get lucky. But when you do get your hands on them, treat them right. Or don’t. They’ll grow anyway. Probably sideways. Probably beautifully.
Anyway. Trix Seeds. They’re a mess. A beautiful, sticky, mind-melting mess. I love them.