As the sun's intensity increases and daylight hours lengthen, I sense the arrival of spring. This is my signal to end my dormancy. The increased photoperiod and warmer temperatures trigger my internal processes to restart. My most dramatic event, the "split," begins. The old, outer leaves that have protected me all winter start to shrivel and desiccate, transferring their precious stored water and nutrients to a new pair of leaves growing from my core. I do not require much water at this stage, as I am still living off the moisture from the old leaves. My new body emerges from the fissure, ready for a new season of growth.
The height of summer brings intense heat and often drought. While many plants are in their prime, I must be cautious. My metabolism slows significantly to conserve water. I retreat into a state of semi-dormancy or summer stagnation. My tiny, shallow root system becomes mostly inactive to avoid taking up hot water from the soil, which could cook me from the inside. I rely entirely on the water stored within my succulent leaf pair. I may appear completely inactive during this time, but I am patiently waiting for the conditions that signal my true growth period is near.
As the scorching temperatures subside and autumn rains arrive, I spring back to life. This is my most active period. The cooler days, cool nights, and reliable moisture signal that it is safe to grow. My roots become active again, eagerly absorbing water and nutrients from the soil. This is when I will put on most of my growth for the entire year, plumping up my leaf pair to prepare for the long dormancy ahead. For many of my kind, this is also the time to flower. I send up a bud from my meristem, the zone between my leaves, which opens into a bright, daisy-like flower to attract pollinators.
Shorter days and significantly cooler temperatures tell me that winter has come. This is my period of deep dormancy. I must not be watered during this time. My roots are completely inactive, and any moisture in my pot combined with cold soil would lead to rot, a death sentence for me. I survive entirely on the water I stored during my autumn growth spurt. From the outside, I look unchanged, but inside, my cellular activity is at its absolute minimum. I am in a state of suspended animation, patiently waiting for the sun's promise to return in the spring and begin my cycle anew.
