Melon Heads by H.O.C.

Melon Heads by House of Cultivar

Welcome back to toasted n’ posted where we are continuing our WhoOody Melon pheno hunt with number four, dubbed Melon Heads. I treasure anytime I get the opportunity to weigh different phenotypes side by side. It is a rare opportunity to identify the subtle shifts and twists within the potential spectrum of identity. The pheno hunt is where cannasseur’s are truly measured. For those unfamiliar, Melon Heads is the offspring of WhoOody and Pakistani Watermelon. Time to get juicy.

The fragrance greets me with a precession of its soft nectar. Subtle juices that teeter between strawberry and mango. The marshmallowy delivery is cemented by trails of accommodating vanilla smoothness. Quaffs of light-hearted grape sing a chorus familiar to Purple Punch. A pinch of feathery tartness that crashes away like a compromised tower of beach sand.

Spewing from the impact is a rebounding tang. The reflective citrus reenters the atmosphere through clouds of cotton berry; precipitating a light pickled sour emulating cucumber and lime. The storm drains out into a diluted slurry of blueberry and woodchips. The profile is smooth and damp with refreshing cool.

In reckless pursuit, I dismantle the flowers beneath my nose. I unlock an enriched vein of grape punch and slicing lime. The culmination sings notes of poppy cherry tartness reined in by powdered sucrose grit. A cool berry fallout crashes onto a pillowy bed of wood chips. I indulge in the puffy kernels of luscious fruit.

Melon Heads pulses with charisma and vivid color. A wide variety of camouflage drapes the buds, but they are unified through one unfailing trait. A static atmosphere comprised of long sweeping twigs. Starved lashes of crispy orange drained to pale by a tender layer of frost. The numerous stigmas assemble to crowns of impassable brush.

Below the tanned canopy lies a shifting jungle of predominantly purple foliage. Stabbing eggplant hues anchor the subtler shades of drowned violet and frothing jam to its visual gravity. In streaks of rebellion, torrents of pear carve bulky beacons through the somber carcass. Even the tamest shades of jellybean green gleam at the focus of this vicious contrast.

Sprawling and scraggly in its immediate exterior, large petals plume outward like moons of eclipsing black. The waltz between the craning exterior leaf and frazzled nests conjure skies of tantalizing clutter. Masses of shadow stitched together with saturated stretches of mossy hope. Speckling the eggplant void are countless heads of rusted trichomes. A diluted whiskey hue drips through the resin glands, tarnishing them with stains of roasted bronze.

The trichomes demonstrate flexibility as they both foam rims of milky crust and refract the weathered charms of the stigmas. The dispersed architecture of Melon Heads is affirmed with a squeeze. The writhing roof crumples quickly and I find willful resistance beneath. Willful by comparison mind you, the flesh crumples to modest force. I’d expect this hybrid to lean notably towards the sativa side based on physical traits alone.

Leaf to flame, my tongue is teased by aloof gestures of smoky wood. The dry splinters outline a slick avenue of arid spice and sweetness. A road stubbled with speckles of pepper rolled mango. The wafting mellow of melon drips out from beneath. Crackling from the wood are nutty rinds of pistachio citrus. The diluted pulp of refreshing ambiguous fruit traces my lips with a rejuvenating veil. The salve lessons the scalding embrace of intermittent cherry lime lashes. The profile of Melon Heads is stern, dry, and sweet; further defined by the arid ripeness of scorched cherry and grape caltrops.

The high builds slowly and amiably. Each hit stacks another cushion of euphoria around my skull. My mind is quickly entombed by a pillow fort of introspective thought. While encumbered by dampening physical pressure, I cling to a beam of laser focus. The smothering gravity restricts me to addressing single ideas with punishing focus.

My willpower withers and dissipates as my views from the fort fall away. Within, I experience a feeling of immeasurable safety. A childlike sense of giggly freedom as I fall away from its reassuring walls. In a heated game of freeze tag, encapsulating the rush of accomplishment and relief of reaching home base. The skipping adrenaline peters out to leave me a vacant-eyed prisoner.

My eyelids wriggle as if snails were warring beneath. Countless invisible tuggles across my body define my physical experience. Mind drained of thought, I feel only the unwieldy trudges of pleasure underneath my skin. The sacrifice of mind and desire offers a blanket of unshakeable calm. The high is gentle and generous; careful not to maroon you to on an island of exhaustion.

Sugar, spice, and everything nice. Melon Heads is a sharp symphony of refreshing fruit enriched by smoked woody bites. I find the strain to be well-balanced and an interesting interpretation of a watermelon profile. The highlights of Melon Heads are certainly its charming physical appeal and the meditative high it offers. As always, thanks for reading.

Melon Heads score: 82/100

Aroma – 17

Physical – 18

Flavor – 13

Consistency – 18

Sensation – 16

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