toasted n’ posted proudly presents…
Sweet Tarts by Bubba
Sweet Tarts by Bubba
Welcome back to toasted n’ posted where we have an extra mysterious strain. No one is exactly sure what came together to create this strain, but we do know we’re calling it Sweet Tarts. Anything that Bubba touches glistens with otherworldly vigor. Under the lens of a camera, you will notice a dramatic difference in quality between these flowers and your commonplace recreational caliber cannabis. I do not have any information available about cannabinoid levels or lineage of Sweet Tarts. Without further delay, let’s get it on!
I stagger out onto the battlefield, prepared to greet the volatile beast. Much to my surprise; Sweet Tarts stands to be a delight born of softened sweetness and creamy sugar. A decadent feathery grain is brushed with a lively syrup of dark berry. As the muck caramelizes, it is transmuted into a smoldering stew of blueberry and grape chased by a firm cookie funk. Further dissected; the ‘cookie funk’ is best described is a rich earthen granola, a sunken sour gas, and a vanilla kissed afghan lick. The exuberant, yet mindful orchestra douses my nostrils in layers of seductive sweetness. I willingly recline into a transcedant tomb of savory satisfaction.
In hopes of exacerbating the already tremulous pungency, I sunder a bulky 3.2 gram bud just above my pursed lips. Leaking out from the fresh wound is a brightened sour gas. The exhilarating gassy charm remains spread and easy to address, but it ultimately peaks with a neutralizing finish of flattened glue. The nauseatingly sweet nectar churns out in uneven heaps, mimicking the consistency of powdered sugar. The caked lifeblood billows outward, showering me in its dispersed aromatic essence.
At a distance, the flowers may appear to be a strained white color. Upon closer examination, I decipher a sharp fern domineering over a salad of pear and pine. The collective base of color is highlighted by the ghostly aura radiating from the boundless volume of milky trichome heads. While some powerful greens call the topsides of the foliage home, the underside of nearly every petal is a vivid white. A storm of opaque stalks are entrenched on the bristled underbellies.
Each calyx builds into a large rotund spire. Whose soft edges make these mighty obelisks look inviting. This amicable appearance is amplified by the distorting glow shed off of the globulous trichome heads. Upon contact, it quickly becomes clear that Sweet Tarts is brilliantly dense. The nugs meet pressure with a slight squish. Though, it takes considerable effort to separate each piece of sticky leaf from its neighbors. Sweet Tarts compact design matched with its formidable density still allows for some narrow rifts slicing through the surface of the verdant fortress. Occupying these narrow crevasses are networks of thin, starving, tangerine stigmas. Fragile pale hairs snake wildly in and out of every rigid valley of frost. While the masterful cure allows me to fraction off large chunks of the flower, the individual nodes are near impenetrable. The longer I examine the bulky fragments, my fingers become jacketed in restricting resin. Just when I was about to retire my fingers from the willful muck, my expedition yields fruit. The core of these fortified flowers births an electric vortex of color. The fiery eye is trapped somewhere between a vivid violet and an over-saturated pink. It truly feels as if I am carving away at the literal heart of the flower.
Leaf to flame, I am not decimated, but charmed by an inviting waft of sugary sweet fruit. A comfortable blanket woven of citrus and subdued grape, hemmed up with a dispersed aromatic finish. Echoing the sweet song is a smokey cream. The tufts mimic the charred bulky hollow cream of a marshmallow. A spicy floral quality sears in the wake of the lingering fluffy confectionary. I feel as if a luscious berry syrup is spurting out from invisible breaks in my sealed lips. I chase down every last savory ghost of flavor still clinging to my lips.
The engrossing censer continues to swing, billowing forth a veil of honed sour. Forceful projectiles are propelled from behind the alluring curtain by a feathery herbal roar. Each dart is coated in an exhilarating sharpness. Beneath the rain of feisty earthen needles, lies a pool of frothy righteous flavor churns. This whirring bog spits out hashy contraptions of varying magnitude. However abrasive the quasi-afghani qualities may be upon introduction, the ferocity is quickly quelled by the fluffy margins of padded candied flavor. I am scorched by the tangy, tart, and fiery zest of Sweet Tarts for moments after any smoke has touched my tastebuds. It has enchanted my breath with its rich flavor.
The high takes a moment to acquire definition. I feel large portions of my skull slowly being replaced by styrofoam. My head tilts back and forth, off-kilter from the uneven rates of conversion. My eyes feel as if they are set back in a bank of milky fog, basking in ambiguous waves of incapacitating pleasure. It has been sometime since my eyes have been this relaxed. Being someone who wears glasses all day, it is a rare occasion that my eyes do not feel strained.
This sensation is unique because it doesn’t draw my eyes closed, but brings forth a functional walking sleep. My body is enchanted by the unnatural ease and grace of Sweet Tarts. My limbs and ligaments feel as if they are mounted on freshly greased swivels, swinging freely and comfortably. With my styrofoam-packed skull and unhindered range of motion, my anatomy has been modified to match a crash test dummy. I feel as if I could rest just about anywhere for an eternity or two while under the palpable charm of Sweet Tarts.
A compounding focus trembles at the center at my mind. This kernel of rapidly blossoming inspiration is the only thing holding the compounding indica characteristics at bay. Eventually the seed of energy is drained and my initiative is crushed under the augmented fuzzy gravity. I look forward to going to bed shortly, I can’t imagine it will take longer than a minute to completely knock out when swaddled in the enamoring comfort of Sweet Tarts.
Goodness gracious this strain packs some serious flavor. I don’t know what Sweet Tarts is supposed to be, but I would suggest it leans considerably towards indica-dominance. Perhaps as much as seventy or eighty percent. The high builds in a balanced manner, the flavor is consistent, and the aroma is complex. I truly enjoyed every element of this strain and I hope it is one that sticks around for a while. Especially with that murderously awesome pink hue within the cores of these nuggets! Can’t wait to see what you cook up next! As always, thanks for reading.
Sweet Tarts Total Score: 89/100 points
Stay high and stay blessed,
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