Himalayan Pink by H.O.C.

toasted n’ posted proudly presents…

Himalayan Pink by House of Cultivar

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Himalayan Pink by House of Cultivar

Welcome back to toasted n’ posted where the puffalo may roam. Today, we have a provocative strain by the name of Himalayan Pink. This flower was grown and procured by House of Cultivar. There are very few specifics offered about this strain’s origin. Himalayan Pink is a heritage strain descending from the Nepalese regional landraces. This region is known for producing a hometown hero, Chemdawg! That being said, at first impression, I can already tell these flowers are miles off of a Chemdawg origin. One important question remains: Will this strain get us as high as the Himalayans? We shall soon see.

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Himalayan Pink is mild-mannered in its greeting. I am brushed tenderly by a sweet, leafy, sour. I am guided below towards a nest of rocky mud stirring with honed tea leaves. Babbling from the unwieldy brook is a powdered floral edge bearing great similarity to potpourri. Chasing the rigid rim, I crash against a crisp, hoppy, and rubbery relief. I lean into the amiable backboard, discovering a quashed applause of misty pine air. I feel as if I’m standing over a bizarrely refreshing dehumidifier. I stand over the jar mindlessly, eagerly soaking up every friendly fume.

Expecting a wild surge in power when I sever the flower, I was once again met with a muted response. There is a mild amplification in the directions of the sugary sour that crescendos into several nuances. A gassy confectionary bleeds from the thrashed plant fibers. The original sour notes evolves into a tickling gas that catalyzes the dormant sucrose within Himalayan Pink. The humidifier is now spewing out a slippery herbal jam drawn from moist earth and berries.

One thing is for sure, these flowers resemble the towering mountain range. I become fixated on the largest bud, it stacks towards the sky while reinforcing its position with crystal dusted bulwarks. Each petal spans to a considerable width before arcing a short distance inward, supporting the principled pylon. I attempt to siege the tower with a series of determined squeezes, but I am met with formidable resistance. While the sprawling vigor of this phenotype is self-evident, its assertions are so concrete that I must suggest indica dominance. There is a little give when attacking the exterior, but in mere seconds reinforcements arrive to hold its fortifications.

Each brick constructing this sylvan sentinel hails from a different part of the purple spectrum. In large, Himalayan Pink is painted with murdered violet, a midnight eggplant, and singed grape hues. For a strain with ‘pink’ in its name, the coloration leans heavily towards the spectrum of blackened purples. The decorated night sky is occasionally  disrupted by asphyxiated shades of green, seemingly drained to feed the purple ambitions of Himalayan Pink.

Certain areas of the flower serve as unadulterated stages that showcase the glorious waves of trichomes. However, some regions are overtaken by a thick lattice of stigmas. Wide-bodied hairs wear a warm coat of weathered tangerine as they snake around one another, creating unbreakable chords of color. The roiling orange hairs conjure a lively contrast against the stern purple skies. Foaming at the mouth, Pink Himalayan is dripping with ghostly resin glands. The egg-white opacity spills over every available ridge, consistently drawing focus from the villainous backdrop. Most stalks are in tact, but still seem to bleed their righteous white pigments unto all surrounding surfaces.

Leaf to flame, I am dusted by a savory combination of sweet herbs. A delicate floral grace charms me into a stupor as I recline into gentle peels of gaseous fruit. I feel as if I just took a bite out of a sandwich made of tree bark and sap. I chew the earthen scraps as an herbal pinch builds at the back of my throat. The slight discomfort expands into a serrated gassy burp. A dissipated cloud of moist leaf and watered-down cranberry juice.

From the free-forming tincture launches a glaive of piercing clean. In the wake of the purging herbal bolt, I experience coughs of chocolate dust. Curling rinds of unrefined cocoa. The reduction proves to be extremely smooth until it inevitably again brandishes an antagonizing claw of dry herbal grit. The afternotes reek of a foreign spicy damp. Wisps of cayenne pepper and earthy syrup linger on my breath after each hit.

Like the cloud cover spilling over the true Nepalese Mountaintops, I feel a similar fog flood my mind. I have never been so comfortable with being completely lost. I feel like a child waiting at an invisible bus stop in anxious anticipation of the sensations to come. I feel a significant mental rise, but it is constantly outpaced by the avalanches of physical euphoria. Even sitting still, I feel as if I’m wading through a pool of hyper-dense water. My mind’s augmentation is just enough to act as goggles, allowing me to sift through the murky seas of this high.

An electric tingle rolls in my spine, gradually grinding away all aches and discomfort. It isn’t long before my spine feels like a wet noodle, buttered and greased up. The high makes your extremities feel so lightweight and lubricated that you want to dance. Not to say that this high is particularly energizing, but your spirit will soar on the back of this liberating muse.

At this point, my mind has been completely dismissed. Feeling to exist solely within the physical realm. I feel as if my conscious has been comfortably sapped from my being and my actions have graduated to becoming instinctual and thoughtless. I feel as if I’m watching a movie in first person and gladly pass the remote to the invisible deities behind Himalayan Pink. Even when I seek to retain my thoughts, they seem to escape through a veil of feathery blubber. It’s weird how light your head feels when it is absent of desire. I am delighted to remain locked away within the blissful complacency of Himalayan Pink.

I don’t know how high Mt. Everest is, but I’m pretty sure I’m there. Himalayan Pink is a powerful blend of calming terpenes that are sure to soothe and amend away your troubles. The high makes life like a Lazy River, you are just mindlessly floating. The meditative high offered is something to be desired and sought out! …and it’s purple. What’s not to love? As always, thanks for reading.

Himalayan Pink score: 87/100 points

Stay high and stay blessed,

Kushman Bonglegs

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