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Blackwater Seeds. Just the name sounds like something whispered in a back alley or scribbled in the margins of a notebook from 1998. You hear it and think—dark, sticky, slow-burning. And you wouldn’t be wrong.
This strain? It’s not for the faint-hearted or the gotta-go-getters. It’s for the sit-down-and-stare types. The ones who light up and melt into the couch like butter on a skillet. Indica-heavy. Like, real heavy. You smoke it and suddenly your limbs don’t belong to you anymore. They’re just there. Hanging out. Doing their own thing.
Genetics-wise, it’s a cross between Mendo Purps and San Fernando Valley OG Kush. Sounds fancy, right? It is. But not in a pretentious way. More like your cousin who shows up to the reunion in a leather jacket and smells like pine and gasoline. Cool without trying. That’s Blackwater.
The buds? Deep purple. Almost black sometimes. Like bruises on velvet. Covered in trichomes that sparkle like someone dumped sugar on them. And the smell—earthy, grapey, a little bit of diesel. Sweet rot. Like a fruit stand left out in the sun too long. Weirdly comforting.
Growing it? Not a nightmare, but not a walk in the park either. It’s manageable. Short and bushy plants, flowering in about 8-9 weeks. Yields are decent. Not massive, but solid. Enough to make you feel like you did something right. Like, hey—look what I made. Look at this monster.
And the high. Jesus. It creeps. You’re fine, you’re fine, and then—bam. You’re not. You’re horizontal. You’re watching shadows move across the ceiling and wondering if time is broken. It’s not paranoia-inducing, though. More like being wrapped in a warm, wet blanket. Heavy, but safe. Like the world slowed down just for you.
I wouldn’t smoke this before work. Or before anything, really. It’s an end-of-the-day, shut-the-world-out kind of strain. A “my brain is too loud and I need it to shut the hell up” kind of strain. You know?
People say it’s good for pain. Insomnia. Anxiety. I don’t know about all that clinical stuff, but I do know it makes my shoulders drop about three inches and my jaw unclench. That’s gotta count for something.
Anyway. If you’re looking for something bright and bouncy—keep walking. But if you want something that feels like a slow dive into a velvet abyss . . . Blackwater’s waiting.