toasted n’ posted proudly presents…
Headband by House of Cultivar
Headband by House of Cultivar
Welcome to toasted n’ posted where only the dankest flower holds up to my scrutiny. I will be especially particular tonight considering the strain. Here we have Headband by House of Cultivar. Headband is the child of OG Kush and Sour Diesel; it has given me unparalleled joy and disappointment in this life. I find my years in pursuit of a quality Headband since I’ve been in Washington hasn’t been particularly redeeming. House of Cultivar has some of the best genetics in Washington, so I’m hoping today that my pessimism will shift. Don’t get me wrong, Headband is one of my favorite strains of all time. That is exactly why I am so particular. Let’s get to it.
I cautiously approach the fresh face slapped on a familiar friend. I am immediately skewered in place by long sharp citrus whiskers whipping out from a base of sodden earth. A divine song of tangy citrus is carried across a provocative herbal wind. The gust gathers strength and begins barreling down a gassy canyon. The roaring headwind eventually crashes, unleashing a fan of gassy citrine daggers. Boiling in the wake of the keen razors are clouds of aromatic gas. The entire bouquet becomes wrapped in this poignant herbal melody. I detect palpable tufts of gas, but there is also a distinctly separate jet of chem that wasn’t completely absorbed into the diesel mutation. Greasing the competing notes together is a lubricated sour tartness. Beneath the intriguing interloper stirs a funky musk at the aroma’s ultimate depth. Airs of fermented earth whip into ancient afghani obelisks, drumming out their dormant power. Even at the darkest depths of the aroma, Headband still brandishes its invigorating charm.
In hopes of deciphering the intentions of this complex strain, I rip a bud in twain. The sundered flower bellows out a gassy roar in anguish. Rushing to its aid are supplementary tides of abrasive herbal grit. As I am driven back by the blindingly sharp gaseous storm; savory earth enchanted with citrus emerges and bleeds into the breach. The intermission is brief, it is not long before another bulldozing wave of feisty chem overpowers any semblance of delicate afghan citrus.
The rage of Headband has been invoked, I haven’t torn the flower more than once and the tenacious nose refuses to cease compounding. Layer after layer of unbelievably raw herbal gas is slathered throughout my sinuses like so much mortar. As I become ‘walled in’, there is an unsettling ‘chill’ added to the fragrance. A voracious minty cool that launches up my nose only to disintegrate my nostrils apart. A mistakenly inviting introduction leads me to be pulverized endlessly by the agitated chorus of this cruel herbal tyrant.
The first thing I noticed about these flowers are how they remind me of the classic OG Kush bud structure. Firm, verdant boulders drenched in coats of resplendent resin. The coloration of the foliage tends to dwell on the lighter side though it does exhibit some willful greens. The flower is predominately painted by pale lime and softened pear. The delicate mask is occasionally disrupted by dark pockets and rogue olive petals. Tribes of weathered tan tendrils camp on scattered cliffs. Many of the stigmas do not advance much past stubble, but there are rare droves of thick whiskers reaching nearly triple the length of its brethren. The trichomes weave a luminous net of tarnished white veins across the surface of the flower. I intermittently spot ‘dog piles’ of trichomes, a tireless horde of resin fighting for dominance of a single location. The individual heads are difficult to spot at a distance due to how their yellowed glow seamlessly blends in with the bright array of foliage.
Leaf to flame, I am pummeled by a feisty fist of peppered herb. A scorching trail of hashy citrus smolders across my throat. The sweet citrus begins to caramelize, blending with supplementary earthy and kushy qualities. The newly candied citrus is wildly powerful, I have to actively reject the urge to sneeze my brains out. Behind the curtain of confectionary crashes a monsoon of raw forest freshness. The storm ushers in a bizarre chill, muffling yet preserving the sullen hashy citrus. Amidst the ice age; the aroma expands to entertain a gritty earthy burp, similar to damp soil. Out of the sodden ground leaks a sour gas laced with a fruity tang. The wellspring of diesel is so thick and succulent I feel as if I could sink my teeth into it. Further exploring this delectable tangent, I discover additional complexity on the exhale. It seems that this metamorphosis runs parallel to a thrashing herbal chem note. Waves of peppered exhilarating pine ripple across my tongue. Being pinned between these fragrances is intense, as if the flavor is attempt to melt away my mouth. I can’t tell if the intensity slowly subsides or if I’d just mustered a light tolerance, but the magnitude of the gaseous gouging eventually tapers off to an enjoyable level. Still, for moments after each hit I feel an elongated tug. I prepare another bowl as the singeing trellis of acidic berry continuously riots in my throat.
I am launched into a vigorous stupor. Bewildering jolts of energy rock my body, I pace as the high takes hold. Not nervously, but I simply couldn’t sit and absorb such an immense amount of euphoric inspiration. Headband asserts itself quickly, there doesn’t appear to be a way to just ‘sample’ some of its qualities. This strain is a “Buy the ticket, take the ride” kind of deal.
An enlivening pulse bands across my temples, behind my eyes, across my ears, and finally the halo connects across the back of my skull. A snug, warm, rewarding grip hemorrhages pleasure into my mind. I feel as if my thoughts are coated in a warm ectoplasm. Every idea coached down to a sloth like inebriation. Headband doesn’t make you dim-witted by any means, but I feel as if every thought demands my full attention. In a way, I’m caused to be withdrawn due to this misguided laser focus. I cannot be bothered to be social when I’m attempting to unravel the mysteries of the universe! If you do manage to pervert this high towards a social situation, I’m sure you’ll be laid-back and affable…or a totally quiet weirdo lingering in the corner.
After about thirty minutes, I’d adjusted to the enlivening embrace of Headband. The body high continues to build, but the mental stimulus begins to peter out. A mandatory refueling of Headband vigor will be necessary unless you want to be knocked out cold. Headband is essentially a deal with the devil. You bargain for fluent creativity and exaggerated levels of energy temporarily. If you don’t continue to renew your lease on life, it will send you crashing into the ground. Prepare to be launched into an introspective orbit at the inevitable risk of plummeting back into the earth.
I’ve got to say this is the best damn Headband that I’ve had in years. I knew when I bought this, that this would be a pivotal moment in my opinion of House of Cultivar. I have to give you serious applause when it comes to doing one of my all-time favorites justice. I’m typically familiar with the more Sour Diesel leaning phenotypes, so I found the wealth of OG Kush influence in this production to be very refreshing. This is the Headband you need to get your hands on. This production satisfied my heart in a way that only nostalgia can. As always, thanks for reading.
Headband Total Score: 94/100
Stay high and stay blessed,
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