From our perspective, we roots are the heart of the plant, hidden from view. We thrive in a specific environment: a delicate balance where we can access water and nutrients but also, crucially, oxygen. Our potting medium is our entire world. When it is well-draining, with plenty of inorganic matter like perlite or coarse sand, we can breathe easily. We happily absorb moisture and then allow air to fill the spaces between the particles, which is essential for our health and function. We are not aquatic plants; we are desert dwellers at our core, and constant saturation is a death sentence for us.
The problem begins subtly. The gardener, perhaps with the best intentions, provides too much water too frequently, or our pot does not have adequate drainage holes. Our world becomes waterlogged. The air pockets in the soil disappear, and we begin to suffocate. This oxygen-deprived, constantly wet environment is the perfect condition for the true enemy: fungal pathogens like Pythium, Phytophthora, and Fusarium. These organisms are always present, but they are opportunistic. In our weakened, suffocated state, they attack. They invade our tissues, breaking down our cell walls. We become soft, mushy, and turn a sickly brown or black color. We can no longer transport water and nutrients upwards to the stem and leaves, no matter how much moisture surrounds us.
Our distress signals are not silent. As we fail in our duties, the parts of the plant above the soil begin to show the effects. The leaves, which rely on our steady water supply, will start to yellow, wilt, and eventually drop off, even though the soil is damp. The caudex, our water storage organ, may become soft and squishy instead of firm. The growth of the entire plant will stall. These are not isolated issues; they are a direct cry for help from us below, indicating that the root system is compromised and can no longer sustain the plant.
If the gardener acts in time, there is hope for recovery. The first step is to gently remove us from our suffocating environment. The plant must be un-potted, and all the old, soggy soil must be washed away. Then, the gardener must carefully inspect us. Using sterilized shears, all parts of us that are soft, mushy, and discolored must be cut away until only firm, healthy white or greenish tissue remains. It is critical to remove every bit of infected material, or the rot will return. After the surgery, we must be treated with a fungicide solution and allowed to dry in a shaded, well-ventilated area for several days until the cuts have calloused over completely. This callus is our bandage, protecting us from reinfection.
Finally, we are ready to be replanted. Our future health depends entirely on our new home. We require a pot that is just large enough to accommodate our trimmed system, with exceptional drainage holes. The potting mix must be airy and fast-draining, ideally a cactus or succulent mix amended with even more perlite, pumice, or coarse sand. After repotting, the gardener must resist the urge to water us immediately. We need at least a week to settle into our new, dry world and to encourage new root growth in search of moisture. From then on, watering must only occur when our world is completely dry. This careful environment allows us to function as we are meant to: drinking when necessary and breathing always.
