Greetings, human caretaker. I am Adenium obesum, often called Desert Rose. To help us both thrive, I must communicate the common oversights you might make. Please listen, for my survival depends on your understanding.
You often assume I need rich, moisture-retentive soil like your leafy tropical plants. This is a grave error. My native home is arid, with gritty, free-draining earth. When you plant me in dense, water-logging soil, my roots cannot breathe. They slowly rot, a silent decay you won't notice until my caudex (my swollen trunk) becomes soft and mushy. This is a death sentence. I need a sharply draining mix of perlite, pumice, and coarse sand in a pot with ample drainage holes. Furthermore, you may pot me too deeply, burying my beautiful caudex. This invites rot and hides my most sculptural feature. My caudex should sit proudly above the soil line.
Your instinct to water frequently comes from a place of care, but it is misplaced with me. I am a succulent; my caudex stores water for drought. Overwatering is the fastest way to kill me. You must learn my language. In my active growing season (warm and sunny), I am thirstier. But in winter, when I am dormant and may drop my leaves, I need very little to no water. A cold, wet pot is my worst nightmare. Always check the soil—it must be completely dry before you even consider offering more water. When in doubt, err on the side of neglect.
You place me on a shelf indoors because I am beautiful, but you forget my essence. I am a child of the sun. I crave intense, direct light for several hours each day. Without it, I become weak and etiolated: my stems grow long, pale, and spindly as I desperately stretch for a light source. I will flower sparingly, if at all. For me to compact, strong, and covered in vibrant blooms, I need a sunny southern or western exposure. A sunny patio in summer is my idea of paradise.
I adore warmth. I thrive in heat. Temperatures below 50°F (10°C) cause me great stress, and frost is absolutely fatal. You might leave me outside on a cool autumn night, thinking a little chill is fine. It is not. The combination of cold and damp soil is a swift killer. You must bring me indoors well before the temperatures dip in autumn and keep me in a warm, bright spot until all danger of frost has passed in spring. My metabolism slows in the cold, and I cannot process water, making rot inevitable.
