JACKHERERSEEDSBANK

Jack Herer seeds caught me off guard the first time I handled them. Like how something mundane—peppercorns, gravel, ancient fruit pits—can stir a weird sense of potential. They didn’t look magical. Just these little brown-speckled shells with no pretension at all. But there’s this thrum of reputation behind ‘em, a quiet backstage whisper about legendary highs, crazy-spiked focus, cerebral swell. You don’t even need to smoke it to feel something stir, I swear. Kind of like finding a dusty mixtape in the glovebox and knowing—somehow—it’ll slap.