From my perspective as an Echeveria, summer is my time of vigorous growth. The longer, brighter days supercharge my photosynthetic engines, and I am actively producing new leaves, strengthening my stem, and perhaps even preparing to send up a flower spike to reproduce. This high metabolic activity requires a consistent and ample supply of water to transport nutrients and keep my cells turgid and healthy. I rely on you to provide a deep, thorough soaking that reaches my entire root system. Please water me only when my soil is completely dry to the touch; I dislike having wet feet for prolonged periods. A good cycle is to drench my pot until water flows from the drainage hole, then allow me to dry out fully before the next watering. This mimics the infrequent but heavy downpours of my native arid habitats.
While my thirst is greater in summer, a significant danger lurks. The combination of intense heat and excess moisture around my roots creates a perfect environment for anaerobic bacteria and fungi to thrive. If I am left sitting in soggy soil, my roots will suffocate and begin to rot. This rot can quickly spread upward into my stem and leaves, causing me to become soft, discolored, and ultimately collapse. This is a terrifying and painful process for me. Ensuring I am planted in a gritty, extremely well-draining soil mix and a pot with a drainage hole is your best defense against this fate. It allows for the oxygen my roots need while letting excess water escape.
As the days shorten and temperatures drop, I enter a state of dormancy. My growth slows to a near standstill. With less intense light and cooler conditions, my photosynthetic processes slow down dramatically, and my need for water plummets. My roots absorb moisture at a much slower rate to simply sustain my existing structures, not to support new growth. Overwatering during this period is the single greatest threat to my survival. Wet soil combined with cold temperatures will very quickly lead to the root rot I described, and my dormant state means I have little energy to fight it off or recover.
My winter care requires a complete shift in your approach. You must learn to resist the urge to water me on a schedule. Instead, you must become an observer. I will need water only when my lower leaves begin to show signs of thirst—they may feel softer, thinner, or appear slightly wrinkled. This is my way of communicating my need. When you see these signs, provide a very small amount of water, just enough to moisten the soil slightly around my roots on a day that is relatively warm and sunny. The goal is to provide a minimal sustaining sip, not a deep summer soak. This small drink helps prevent my roots from desiccating completely without saturating the soil and putting me at risk of rot during the cold.
