From my perspective, water is a constant negotiation. My roots need access to both water and air. When you provide too much water, the soil becomes saturated, pushing out the precious oxygen my roots need to breathe. This leads to a condition called root rot. The roots, my vital organs for uptake, begin to suffocate and decay. Once this happens, they can no longer transport water and nutrients to my leaves. Ironically, the leaves then start to soften, turn yellow, and eventually brown and mushy as they die of thirst from within, despite the soggy conditions at my base. Conversely, if you provide too little water, my thick, succulent leaves—designed to store moisture—will begin to deplete their reserves. They respond by shriveling, turning a crispy brown, and feeling papery to the touch. This is my desperate attempt to conserve the last of my water for survival.
While I appreciate light for photosynthesis, my native habitat is often in the shade of rocks or other plants. My leaves are not equipped to handle the intense, direct sunlight of a summer afternoon through a south-facing window. This excessive light causes a sunburn, much like it does for you. The chlorophyll in my leaves, which gives me my green color, begins to break down. This damage first manifests as a reddish, brown, or pale yellow discoloration, often on the top surfaces most exposed to the light. The leaf tissue is literally being damaged and killed by the solar radiation. It is a stress response, a sign that I am receiving more energy than I can healthily process.
The medium in which I grow is my entire world. It dictates the availability of water, air, and nutrients. If I am planted in a dense, heavy soil that retains water for too long, it creates the perfect environment for the root rot I described earlier. My roots are trapped in a wet, airless prison. A proper soil mix for me is gritty, coarse, and extremely well-draining, allowing water to flow through quickly while still holding just enough for me to absorb. Furthermore, if I have been in the same soil for many years, it can become compacted and depleted of nutrients. This can lead to a general decline in my health, sometimes reflected in a yellowing or paling of my leaves as I struggle to access the minerals I need to maintain my vibrant green hue.
Not every change in leaf color is a cause for alarm. It is a natural part of my life cycle for the oldest leaves, typically those at the very bottom of the rosette, to eventually age and die. This process is called senescence. As I divert my energy to producing new growth from my center, the outermost leaf will slowly yellow, dry out, and turn brown, eventually becoming crisp and papery. This is a controlled process. If the discoloration is isolated to one or two bottom leaves and the rest of me appears plump and healthy, it is likely just me shedding my oldest parts to make way for new life.
