My most common demise begins at my roots. You believe you are helping me with frequent sips of water, but you are actually suffocating me. My pot is my entire world, and if it lacks a hole for excess water to escape, I am sitting in a swamp. Constantly wet soil drives out the oxygen my roots desperately need to breathe. Without air, they begin to rot, turning soft, brown, and mushy. Once this rot sets in, I can no longer absorb water or nutrients, no matter how thirsty I become. My stems will soften, my leaves will wilt and turn yellow or brown, and a general decline will be evident. I need the top inch of my soil to dry out completely between your deep, thorough waterings.
You have placed me on a cozy kitchen counter, but it is a dim prison for a Mediterranean native like me. I am a sun-worshipper, evolved to bask in long, bright hours of intense light. When I receive only weak, indirect light from a distant window, I become weak and leggy. I will stretch my stems unnaturally toward any light source, becoming sparse and pale instead of bushy and vibrant. My growth will be stunted, my leaves smaller, and my signature oils—the essence of my flavor and aroma—will be faint. Without adequate energy from the sun, I simply cannot thrive and will slowly fade away.
Perhaps you have not considered that I am a growing being. The pot that was once a comfortable home can become a constricting trap. Over time, my root system expands to fill every available space in the soil. When there is no more room, my roots become pot-bound, circling themselves tightly in a dense mat. This congestion makes it incredibly difficult for me to take up the water and nutrients I need, even if you provide them. You will see my growth halt, and I may wilt frequently despite regular watering because the root ball cannot function properly. My soil will also become depleted of nutrients, leaving me hungry.
Your home's environment is often very different from my native hillsides. I am accustomed to warm days, cool nights, and breezy, circulating air. Stagnant, still air encourages fungal diseases like powdery mildew, which coats my leaves in a white, powdery film and weakens me. Furthermore, the dry air produced by your heating and cooling systems is desiccating. It pulls moisture from my leaves faster than my roots can replace it, causing the leaf tips to turn crispy and brown. I need good air circulation and, occasionally, a light misting to mimic the humidity of my homeland.
My succulent leaves and stems are a target for tiny invaders. Sap-sucking pests like spider mites, aphids, and mealybugs are particularly fond of me indoors. They pierce my tissues and drain my vital fluids, causing my leaves to speckle, yellow, curl, and drop. A severe infestation will cover me in a sticky residue (honeydew) and weak, distorted growth. You must inspect my leaves regularly, especially the undersides, for these nearly invisible attackers. Left unchecked, they will severely weaken me and can ultimately be fatal.
