Watermelon Gelato by Bubba

Watermelon Gelato by Bubba

Welcome back to toasted n’ posted where the dank gets roasted. Today, we have a very special treat from none other than our pal Bubba. This sprawling specimen you see is Watermelon Gelato. A cross of Gelato 45 and Watermelon Zkittles, there are already several reasons to be helplessly drawn to this strain like a moth to flame. With flowers notably more enormous than any Gelato cross that I’d ever seen, that must be some Zkittles stirring things up.

I breach the threshold to become enchanting by sanded sprites of lavender incense. Emerging from the subdued mist are tacks of floral bite laid upon slicks of skunky grease. A vaporous rawness; hot air smitten by the grinding abrasion of grape and cherry sour. Sheets of tart dew form upon my palate, every bead laced with the crackling snap of potpourri spice.

Out from beneath the poignant traits, the grape notes exhibit a softer side. Gnarled feathery curls reinforced with bright rubbery flexibility. The spined sweetness of green apple drips down through a porous colander of melon flesh. Slicing fresh giving way to a backwash of diluted watery sucrose. A revitalizing burp of subdued tang invokes a sleeping mind.

Signature smelling salts natural only to the abstract allure of fermented fruit peels. Juicy and savory, the salad of singeing flavors are tucked into a bonnet of refreshing electric damp. A humid haze neatly contained by obtrusively ripe pineapple and an unbridled lime trajectory. Themes of acute tartness and humbled sweetness are spun together like a brilliant thread. The rollercoaster of refreshing spice offering many spikes and mellows, but consistently arrives at a destination of sappy spice.

In the spirit of wild conquest, I crumble the largest specimen under my nose. The fresh fissures erupt with explosive plumes of raw tacky gas. I’m driven backwards by the obscene magnitude. I reenter the jet stream after the initial tenacity had subsided some. More than ever, Watermelon Gelato brandishes its Zkittles heritage. Tithes of floral berry grease are reinforced with a creamy fruit echo and a cough syrup depth. Shredded skies of lemongrass and lavender nettles raise cherry-lime goosebumps from my skin. A slick culmination adequately honoring its watermelon moniker. A bubbling muck of fruity zest and raw syrupy sour.

Watermelon Gelato shores up its defenses into solid walls of spackled verdancy. Freckled spikes and cowlicks decorate the otherwise smooth presentation of each sheer face. Long cones with the stretched muzzles of muscle shells, further honoring the comparison with the shimmery rainbows reaching across its skin. A swarm of poignant color: somber pine, molasses moss, stabbing lime, and determined pear alternate in weaving a vivid jacket of identity.

The whipped signature of vanilla cream spills over the petals in unwieldy hillocks. Countless haphazard monuments of sweet ivory adding a static distortion to the otherwise consuming tides of shifting green. A seductive emerald glow stems from the contrasted clash, carrying my eyes up towards the rebellious stigma crafted canopy above. Saturated with anchoring resin, the hairs themselves appear adhered to the flesh. With further appraisal, each hair appears less a separate vestige and more a throbbing capillary.

Irradiated nacho cheese highlights the scattered causeways. Winding maps of pulsing orange designed to disorient you further as you traverse the chipping mantle of Watermelon Gelato. There is a certain fragility to the frost packed surfaces of this strain, however, a determined squeeze is met with stubborn determination. Watermelon Gelato is remarkably dense despite its bottleneck tributes to its Zkittles heritage.

Leaf to flame, a roasted nutty warmth carries across my breath. A muffled dewey bite sweats to the surface. Smoky, sweet, and slick; the formidable excretion screams of lime and kumquat. Steamed green leaf and gritty chem exuberance is fanned into my palate. A pseudo-menthol crisp morphs to embrace tangents of hashy berry and savory meaty haze. A mesquite damp lubricated by a gelatinous honey smooth. Moist, cakey, earth is overshadowed by the bitter musk of plum and pomegranate. Tangy remnants of pulverized pulp erode away at the banks of the syrup slick afghan ravine.

My field of perception has become glazed over by a thin crust of ice. A lake so tenderly glassed that falling leaf could shatter its composition. A watery veil causing my surroundings to be choked by a pale blue. I find peace in sheltering behind a billowing fog chilled reassurance. My shoulders shudder as icy claws of euphoria rake down my back. My entire body stretches and wriggles as if to free forgotten ancestral ligaments.

Bloated, yet light; my body transforms into a bale of tightly bound balloons. Flesh and spirit are but amorphous blobs of color wandering a heated vessel. Contemplative, but utterly incapable of motion, I struggle to utilize my detached wisdom. The odd esteem is shaped by a floating liberation. While not exactly driven or inspired by this high, I am compelled by a grandiose sense of possibility. I find myself giggly, freed to indulge a chaotic sense of apathy. So distant from physical sensation and ego, there are infinite stretches of emotional limbo to explore.

This production was a remarkable tribute to both parents, however, it didn’t quite carry all of the subtleties over into the flavor. This may be a consequence of combining two carnivorously flavorful strains, but still a worthwhile experiment. The aroma offers the classic charms of its heritage with a bright series of nuance. Gelato fans, Zkittles heads, and people seeking something refreshing will all be appeased by this strain. As always, thanks for reading.

Watermelon Gelato score: 88/100

Aroma – 19

Physical – 20

Flavor – 15

Consistency – 19

Sensation – 15

Stay high and stay blessed,

Kushman Bonglegs

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