Northern Lights Review by an Experienced Grower
Grew Northern Lights again this season. God, I forgot how much I love this plant. It's like an old friend who doesn’t ask questions—just shows up with a six-pack and a knowing nod. You know what I mean?
First off, she's short. Stocky. Built like a damn linebacker. Doesn’t stretch much in flower, which is a blessing if you’ve got a low ceiling or a tent that’s already seen too many close calls. I ran her in a 4x4 under an HLG 600, soil grow, organic inputs. Nothing fancy. Just compost teas, worm castings, and a little molasses when I remembered. She didn’t care. She just... thrived.
Veg was chill. No drama. Topped her twice, light LST, and she responded like a champ—thick branches, tight internodes, deep green leaves that almost looked too healthy. Like, suspiciously healthy. I kept waiting for her to throw a tantrum. She never did.
Flowering? Eight weeks. Maybe nine if you’re picky. I pulled at day 58 and the trichs were mostly cloudy with a few ambers peeking through—just how I like it. The smell in late flower was subtle but rich. Earthy, sweet, with this weird little piney backnote that reminded me of hiking in the Cascades after rain. Not loud like some of these modern candy strains. More... mature. Confident. Doesn’t need to shout to be heard.
Yield was solid. Not massive, but dense nugs that trimmed easy and cured beautifully. No larf. No foxtailing. Just tight, frosty buds that reeked of nostalgia and made me grin like an idiot every time I opened the jar. Smoking it? Smooth as hell. Like velvet wrapped around your lungs. Hits fast, too. First toke and you feel your shoulders drop. Second toke and you’re on the couch, staring at the wall, wondering if you left the oven on. You didn’t. You’re just high.
It’s not a party strain. Not for me, anyway. More like a “shut the world out and listen to old records” kind of high. Heavy body, but not sedating unless you overdo it. Which I did. Twice. Okay, maybe three times. No regrets.
Honestly, Northern Lights is one of those strains that makes you question why you ever chased the hype. I’ve grown all the trendy stuff—Zkittlez, Gelato, Runtz, whatever the hell is hot this month. They’re fine. Some of them are even great. But they don’t have the soul this one does. NL’s got history. It’s got roots. It’s the kind of plant that doesn’t just grow—it teaches you something. About patience. About simplicity. About not screwing with what already works.
Would I grow it again? Already started clones. She’s staying in the rotation. Forever, probably.
If you’re new to growing—start here. If you’ve been at it for years—come back. You’ll remember why you started.