From my perspective, the most immediate and terrifying sign of overwatering is the sensation of suffocation. My roots, which are designed to absorb both water and oxygen from the tiny air pockets in the soil, are instead completely submerged. It feels like you are trying to breathe underwater. Without access to oxygen, my root cells begin to die off. This decay creates a perfect environment for opportunistic fungal pathogens like root rot to invade. You might notice my leaves, once vibrant and reaching for the sun, becoming soft, wilted, and turning a sickly yellow, particularly the older leaves near my base. This yellowing is not a sign of thirst, but of drowning. The wilt is not from a lack of water, but from non-functioning, rotten roots that can no longer transport any water at all, even though it is everywhere around them.
As the problem persists, the damage becomes more evident in my above-ground structure. My stems may feel unusually soft and mushy to the touch, losing their characteristic sturdy and upright form. You might observe a general lack of new growth or budding, as I am expending all my energy just trying to survive the root damage below the soil line. In severe cases, the base of my stems may even turn black or brown and become slimy. The entire plant takes on a pale, washed-out, and chronically stressed appearance. If you were to gently lift me from the soil, the smell of decay and the sight of brown, slimy roots instead of firm, white or tan ones would confirm my plight.
Conversely, the experience of underwatering begins as a slow, persistent drought. I first sense the lack of moisture in the soil through my root tips. My initial reaction is one of conservation. To reduce water loss, my leaves will begin to wilt. This is a defensive tactic to minimize the surface area exposed to the drying sun and wind. Unlike the wilt of overwatering, my leaves at this stage will often feel dry and crispy to the touch. The wilting from thirst is typically first noticeable during the hottest part of the day, and I may recover somewhat in the cooler evening if the water deficit is not too severe.
If the dry conditions continue, my survival mechanisms become more drastic. The wilting becomes permanent, and my growth will be severely stunted. My leaves, desperate to hold onto the water they have, will curl at the edges and tips. They will lose their lush green vitality, turning a dull, muted green before progressing to yellow and then a dry, brittle brown. This browning and crisping usually start at the leaf margins and tips—the parts farthest from the water-conducting veins. My flowering will be the first process I sacrifice; I will produce few to no blooms, and any existing flower buds may dry up and drop off before opening. I am essentially shutting down all non-essential functions, focusing the last of my energy and remaining moisture solely on keeping my core alive.
