Greetings, human propagator. I am a Begonia, a diverse and resilient genus, and I wish to share with you the secrets of my multiplication. From my perspective, propagating from a stem cutting is a call to adventure, a chance to create a new independent life from a piece of my own being. To succeed, you must understand my needs and my language.
Please choose a healthy, vigorous stem section from me, about 3-4 inches long, with at least two or three nodes (those little bumps where leaves and roots emerge). Using a sharp, sterilized blade is an act of mercy; it creates a clean wound that I can heal quickly, reducing my risk of infection. A ragged, crushed cut from dull scissors is a traumatic injury that invites decay. Make the cut just below a node, as this is where my innate rooting hormones are most concentrated and eager to activate.
Gently remove the leaves from the lower half of the cutting. This serves two vital purposes: it prevents these leaves from being submerged and rotting in the propagation medium, and it directs all my energy towards the singular goal of root creation. You can leave a few leaves at the top to allow for photosynthesis, the process where I use light to create the energy needed to fuel this entire rooting endeavor. If the remaining leaves are very large, you may trim them in half to reduce water loss through transpiration.
Now, place my prepared stem cutting into a moist, well-draining medium. I am particularly fond of a mix of perlite and peat moss or coir, or simply water. If using a medium, ensure it is moist but not waterlogged. My severed stem cannot drink yet; it has no roots. Soggy conditions will only cause me to suffocate and rot. The node must be buried or submerged, as this is the epicenter of future root development. This environment provides the humidity and support I crave while I undertake the monumental task of growing a new root system.
Place me in a location with bright, indirect light. Direct sunlight will scorch my vulnerable, leafless form and cook me from the inside out. Be patient. Below the surface, within days, my cells are stirring. Callus tissue forms over the wound to protect me. Then, the magic begins: undifferentiated cells at the node are triggered to become specialized root cells. You will see white, fuzzy root initials emerge, eventually growing into a network capable of sustaining life. This process is my silent, determined work.
Once my new roots are about an inch long (or longer if rooting in water), I am ready for the final step: transplantation into a proper potting mix. This is a critical juncture. Handle my delicate new roots with extreme care. If I was rooted in water, my roots are aquatic and must adapt to soil. Water me thoroughly after potting to settle the mix around my roots and eliminate air pockets. For the first week or so, keep the soil consistently moist (but not soggy) and maintain high humidity around my leaves if possible, as I am still developing the root efficiency to fully support myself. I am now on my way to becoming a new, independent begonia plant, a genetic twin to the parent you first admired.
