Northern Lights Seeds

Who and Where Created Northern Lights?

Who made Northern Lights? Depends who you ask—and how much weed they've smoked. The story’s murky, like a fogged-up window in a hotboxed van. But most roads lead back to the Pacific Northwest, somewhere in the late '70s or early '80s. Seattle, probably. Maybe even a garage. Or a basement. You know the type—posters on the wall, lava lamp in the corner, someone’s cousin passed out on a beanbag.

It wasn’t a corporation. Not some lab-coat operation. This was old-school, underground, pre-legalization wizardry. A guy—maybe two—working with Afghani landrace strains. Pure indica. Heavy. Sedating. Stuff that makes your knees feel like warm pudding. They crossed it with Thai—probably sativa-heavy, spicy, electric. That’s the rumor, anyway. Nobody wrote it down. Or if they did, it’s long gone. Burned, buried, or smoked away.

Then it jumped. Like a whisper. Or a virus. From Seattle to the Netherlands. Holland was the promised land back then—Amsterdam, the mecca. Legal-ish. Tolerant. And full of breeders with big dreams and bigger egos. One name sticks: Neville Schoenmaker. Aussie guy. Moved to Holland. Founded The Seed Bank. Some say he got his hands on the original Northern Lights clones—eleven of them, numbered I through XI. He worked with them, crossed them, stabilized them. Northern Lights #5 became the legend. The others faded. Or maybe they’re still out there, growing in someone’s backyard, forgotten but alive.

So who created it? Some stoner genius in Seattle. Where? Probably in a room that smelled like incense and bong water. When? Late '70s, maybe early '80s. The rest is myth, hearsay, and smoke. But the high? That’s real. Heavy, dreamy, like sinking into a velvet couch with no intention of ever standing up again.

And honestly? That’s all I care about.