ExperiMental & Rebel Organic. Mercilessly!

[defharo]

Celebration and Bloom in the Gypsy Garden…

Mirador San nicolas Albaycin en Granada, rumba improvisada con Gitanos Lisa carmen

A deeply illegal and perfectly correct Garden

Today, in my rebellious and clandestine garden, everything is alive. The seven magnificent, nameless plants I’ve been raising in old-school 7-liter pots are now celebrating their seventh week of flowering. Seven plants, seven liters, seven weeks… the number of magic and mystery. Coincidence? Not likely. This is destiny, rooted and photosynthetic.

There’s no competition here, but there is pride. Each plant shows off in her own way: the smelliest, the brightest, the one with a bud like a clenched flamenco fist. I’ve taken photos to mark the occasion—close-ups of the floral buds presenting themselves like unclaimed jewels. Crystals everywhere. Immaculate, sticky, daring the camera to capture them.

The aromas can’t be shown in photos. Can’t be described either. My house is gloriously reeking of marijuana. A sacred perfume. The incense of this pagan cathedral I call my grow tent.

The foliage is lush—green, vibrant, almost musical. Each leaf is a living solar panel, devoting itself entirely to one mission: feeding the buds with energy. And the buds return the favor with explosive, elegant growth. Flowering isn’t in a rush. I feel it will stretch naturally, as if the plants themselves want to linger a bit longer at this party.

I feed them with my finest potions, prepared with patience, science, and druid-level affection. Gourmet nourishment, fermented in secret, poured at each watering like a sacred toast.

The lights bathe everything. A warm LED sky, generous and bright—no dark corners here. No shadow. Just growth. Just celebration. My seven companions know it, and they dance their photosynthetic dance with a joy that’s impossible to fake.

Today there is no labor.
Today, we celebrate.
It’s the Week of Sevens. And the garden sings in flamencostrong text.

[JahRasta]

Congratulations on the cultivation diary, the texts are very fun to read, the plants are beautiful and virtuous… very cool.

[defharo]

Thank you very much! The fun part is growing marijuana outside the system…

[defharo]

Red alert!
Winds of melancholy, hurricanes of sorrow, and rains of sadness threaten my garden of joy in the coming weeks…
The crops age with noble dignity, my loyal growing companions sink into a deaf and silent anguish — and yet, these libertarian plants will leave me their finest legacy in the form of flowers, aromas, flavors, and effects that will be my solace when, on some day of the coming autumn, they turn to smoke.

[Hashpants]

Fantastic work buddy ! Those look delicious.

[defharo]

Thanks a lot, mate!

[defharo]

Seven plants, conjured by life… and by me.

The seven plants of my rebel garden have reached seven weeks of flowering. I watch them quietly, one by one, like you’d watch a group of friends who’ve lived through something deep—something unrepeatable.

In the photos I share today, you can see it in them: they’re radiant, intentional, proud of themselves. As if they knew they weren’t raised in luxurious conditions, but rather with creativity, affection, and a little botanical witchcraft. They’ve matured in modest pots, with less wattage, shorter vegetative stages, and only a third of the nutrients I used in previous seasons. And yet—here they are. Majestic. Unbelievable. People say less is more, but this season proved the opposite: less became much, much more.

I feel pride. Because seeing them thrive under these conditions proves that knowledge matters more than budget—and that careful attention is worth more than any prepackaged nutrient chart.

I feel passion. Because I didn’t just plant this garden with soil and seed—I planted it with obsession, with observation, with that secret language only spoken between leaves. I understood them. They understood me. We spoke as equals.

And yes… I feel sorrow. Because the end is coming.
Maybe three more weeks. Maybe more, if the moon shows mercy. But the air already smells different. The cycle is winding down.
And though it will be a glorious ending, it comes with invisible tears and pruning scissors in hand.

This grow will leave its mark. Not just in the jars to come or the grateful lungs that will receive its flowers—but in me. Because every plant taught me something. Every leaf was a page. Every drop of water, a line written in this green book that’s now reaching its final chapters.

And still, while the lights are on, while they keep drinking and blooming—the party goes on. Seven queens keep dancing.
And I, their emotional gardener, can only keep writing… and watering.

Chet Baker - Time After Time [Digitally Enhanced]

[Hashpants]

Be strong, be certain , be humble! Grow well . Cultivate everything.

[defharo]

Yes, strength and humility must be inseparable.

[Hashpants]

Harvest of 2 crosses outdoors today. Edit out the BB

[defharo]

Long live life!
Like every season, I wait for some sneaky hermaphrodite plant that will give me feminized seeds. I’ve grown several spontaneous crosses of this kind and I’m satisfied. But this year I have an old Brazilian sativa loaded with regular seeds, finally the “macho” bastard got his goal.

[Hashpants]

Pier planks rounded by travel. Filled with the essence of bait, long since lost. Many travel to the end to see the sea. I’ve come to sit and know the great recycler.

[defharo]

Oh! Many times the sea horizon has made me daydream.

[MrGreenJeans]

Your plants are THRIVING! Gorgeous grow you’ve got going there, my friend.

How many total combined watts are your lights throwing into that jungle of a tent?

7 is a lucky number. Two of the most promising contenders in my next grow will be going into 7-gallon pots. (The others will have to make due with 3-gallons apiece.)

[defharo]

Hi bro! Thanks for your comments! This season is being very special. The fury is underground. All the plants are consuming between 3 and 5 times more irrigation water than in previous seasons. This season, I’ve applied two phytohormones very precisely. One at the beginning (auxins) promotes root formation, and later another (cytokinins) is applied foliarly to compact and branch the plant, and later to fatten the buds. When I open the pots, I’ll see root development, although I can tell you that the roots of the male I harvested were more numerous and thicker than any before. The buds on the plants are already showing extreme density. For example, N7 is a sativa with foxtail buds, but I’ve never had a similar strain with buds as hard as rocks.

Sorry for the long introduction, but for me, it all comes together.

Regarding lighting, in my main tent (60x120 cm), I’m growing six plants in classic 7-liter pots, except for N7, which is in an 11-liter fabric pot.
The current total wattage is 576W, distributed across nine lamps, with varied color spectrums.
In the canopy, I have five lamps, for a total of 430W.
On the sides, I have four lamps (146W) with very orange and red color spectrums: 1800K, 2100K, 2700K, 660nm, and IR.

I grow two plants in a homemade grow tent (N2 and N6), where I have 150W in the two canopy lamps, with full-spectrum lights, and two 3000K panels (83W) on the sides very close to the plants.

But if you read this thread during the vegetative growth stage, you’ll see that I initially use blue lights (450nm) mixed with white lamps (7700K or 6500K). I maintain this combination until the pre-flowering stage, when the plants stop stretching. Blue lights are unique because they’re the only ones capable of changing the morphology of plants, making them more compact and branched.
My goal with the lights, furthermore, is to have no shadows and for light to enter from the sides to form longer buds.

[Ganjapeee]

congratulations brother, you are always doing great work

[defharo]

The unequal sisters: A life without a truce & another of obedience.

Eight weeks into flowering. And here she is. Small (28cm), sturdy, intense. A short-statured plant that’s lived more than most in twice the space and time. She grows in a 6.5-liter pot, but her story stretches far beyond those limits.

Her buds are hard as rocks, sticky, colorful—painted by fatigue itself. You can already see the wear and tear. Time is showing on her leaves, like an old fighter who still smiles with swollen eyes. She’s had no rest: 24 hours of light, jumping from one grow tent to another, changing companions, changing spectrums, changing direction. No routine. Just a kind of luminous dance without pause.

All because I thought she was photoperiod. But no. This plant decided to flower on her own terms, without asking. A silent act of rebellion that has left her tired… but blissful.

Meanwhile, her sister—an unassuming plant growing in a tiny 3-liter pot—stayed on script. She followed the rules of her photoperiod nature without protest, and tripled in size compared to her rebellious sibling. She’s tall now, calm, blooming at her own pace, like everything is exactly as it should be.

And I, at the center of these two parallel lives, can’t help but be surprised. I’ve never grown in such small containers. I never thought 3 liters could hold so much character.
And yet, there is. There’s resin, there’s structure, there’s promise.

Maybe this summer, I’ll go for it. Maybe next season I’ll try 3- and 4-liter pots, grow more strains, turn the garden into a living archive of miniature stories.
A place to experiment. To play.
I’m thinking about it. And when I think about it, I’m almost there.

[ABushOfKush]

Some very nice plants this season! Looks like whatever feeding changes you made have really worked out. Hope you’re doing well.

[defharo]

N1: Eighth week of flowering, 15 weeks of cultivation, old-school 7-liter pot with a stone base and ventilated sides.
A strain likely indica and the daughter of a thousand fathers, mothers, and places, it now blooms happily in this foster garden… without asking permission!

[MissinBissin]

OMG @defharo WHAT AN ADVENTURE…