Now, technically, you can flower your plants as soon as they are seedlings and skip the vegetative state entirely. It will make your seedlings start producing buds right away.
If you’re waiting eagerly for a delicious harvest of buds, then the average timeframe of 3-4 months for growing marijuana can seem like a lifetime. It’s easy to grow impatient with marijuana’s long growing time and you might be wondering how to speed things along.
However, growing indoors does give you a little more control over how you grow your plants. And if you want to get to harvest time quickly, we have some sound advice for you.
Depending on how impatient you are, you could stagger your growing operation so that while you have flowering plants, you always have vegetating plants. This would result in a possible harvest every 60 days. But in this article, we’ll be focusing on techniques for speeding up the growing process of a single grow.
Start flowering ASAP
This might sound tempting to try, but you really do compromise on your yield. Your plant needs to have enough stems producing buds for a worth-wile yield. And a seedling doesn’t have many stems yet.
Let’s take a look at the Northern Lights strain, which has a total flowering time of about 8 weeks. If you turned your seedlings straight over to flowering from the moment of germination, you’d be harvesting in less than 12 weeks.
Growing weed can seem kind of tedious when you think about the fact that it can take up to 5 months to enjoy your hard work. Speeding up the process doesn’t come without some sort of compromise on quality or yield, but it absolutely can be done. If you absolutely must have your buds faster, this article will tell you everything you need to know.
The time between seed and harvest will depend on the strain you are growing, along with several other factors.
When you are growing cannabis from a regular seed, you get to choose when to flip from vegetation to flowering. A grower generally does this by changing the lighting schedule. When the number of light hours decreases, the plant begins to flower and produce buds. Depending on the strain, this could be anywhere from 8-12 weeks.
In mid-January, I planted my second seed. When she burst forth from the soil Jan. 19, the split seed casing clinging to the top of the green shoot reminded me of an armored helmet. Having just watched “Wonder Woman 1984,” I impulsively decided this powerful woman would bear the name of the Amazonian superhero’s secret identity: Diana Prince. Eager to avoid my earlier mistake, Diana Prince was transplanted to her forever home just five days later and then locked safely in my garage under the new grow light (20 hours on, 4 hours off). I visited my baby daily, watering her just enough to keep her healthy and thriving.
Unlike becoming the parent of a human, there’s a minimum age requirement — you have to be 21 — to legally become the parent of a recreational-use pot plant (different regulations apply to medical marijuana). And that six-plant limit? That’s per private residence — not resident — which means you can’t legally grow a dozen plants just because you split the rent with a roommate. Which brings me to another wrinkle that factors heavily into who does and doesn’t get to become a pot-plant parent in this fair city. Although not impossible, it’s far easier if you own the place in which you’re living and growing a pot plant. Even if your landlord doesn’t explicitly forbid the on-premises cultivation of cannabis (which he or she legally can), your lease agreement probably won’t cover the sort of modifications you might make to the property in your pursuit of off-the-grid ganja.
For almost as long as I’ve known about the cannabis plant, I’ve wanted to grow my own weed. This is partly because I like everything about it; not just the psychoactive effect of combusting and inhaling it, but also the way it looks, from the slender serrated fan leaves to the densely packed flowers shimmering with a crystal-like dusting (called trichomes, these tiny, hair-like structures are home to the high-producing compound THC). I like the skunky smell of a live plant, and I appreciate the fact that it’s only the female of the genus that will get you high.
So after a few weeks of mourning, I decided to give pot-plant parenting a second try. And this time around, I was determined to spare no expense — potential tax savings be damned. I invested in a bathroom scale so I could weigh the plant between waterings, and when Taylor offhandedly suggested an LED grow light so I could raise my little green girl indoors, I immediately ordered one and cleared a spot in my garage, not far from where my hard-partying friends used to routinely smoke plants like her in the pre-pandemic days.
In the run-up to 4/20, a look at some of the ways Southern California is shaping the cannabis conversation.
But the desire to get my grow on also has a lot to do with how I grew up in rural Vermont.
Then it hit me: In my haste to marry the nostalgic farm-to-table experiences of my Vermont childhood to my love of weed, I’d forgotten the part about not forming an emotional bond and had done exactly that. Even worse, I’d given her a name and imagined a personality for her. By naming her Diana Prince, I’d become less of an urban herb farmer about to get his buzz on and more like the Titan Kronos of Greek mythology about to swallow his offspring.