Grape Ape x Grand Daddy Purple

🌱 Plant: squat and stubborn. a dwarf empire — short, dense, stacked like Russian nesting dolls filled with resin. indoors they hunch beneath lamps and whisper secrets at three feet; outdoors they spread sideways, wide as regrets, rarely towering. branches are compact and unapologetic, stems like little columns. the colas? rock. cold. purple fists.

🌳 Growing temperament: forgiving. it resists the usual petty evils — bugs and rot stumble and go back home. feeds are moderate; it likes hands that don’t shake. phenotype shuffling is minimal — mostly the same purple hymn with tiny variations in how loud the grape sings.

💥 Flowering: brutal pace — finishes fast, sticky as old money. seven to eight weeks and it’s done, but done with style. potency rides high — the kind that lingers like a bad dream (twenty-ish, twenty-four-ish percent — numbers that hum but don’t explain the quiet).

🥦 Yield: moderate but handsome — consistent, pretty, the kind of weed that looks like money. not a cornucopia, but premium, slabby, market-ready. trims in bags that make eyes widen. concentrates? this is gold: hash and rosin that keep the purple like a memory in amber.

😮‍💨 Finish like a whisper: cure it slow and the grape syrup blooms. the purple deepens in jars; smoke remembers its childhood. stash it right and months later it still hits like a late-night train — soft, relentless, utterly purple.