From my perspective as an Echeveria, root rot is a terrifying and suffocating experience. It begins unseen beneath the soil, a silent crisis that threatens my very existence. I want to thrive, to soak up the sun and grow new plump leaves, but this condition cripples my ability to sustain myself. Here is a detailed account of what root rot means for me.
My roots are not just anchors; they are my drinking straws and my lungs. They need oxygen as much as they need water. The single greatest cause of my distress is being forced to sit in oversaturated, dense soil. When water fills every air pocket in the potting mix, my roots cannot breathe. This prolonged oxygen starvation causes the root cells to die and decay. This process is often accelerated by fungal pathogens like Pythium or Phytophthora, which are ever-present in the soil and eagerly attack my weakened, suffocating tissues. From my viewpoint, it's not an attack from the outside, but a collapse from within due to impossible living conditions.
Several human actions, however well-intentioned, contribute to this suffocating environment. Using a pot without a drainage hole is like locking me in a room with a rising flood; there is simply no escape for the excess water. A potting mix that is too organic, rich, and moisture-retentive acts like a wet sponge wrapped tightly around my roots, refusing to dry out. Furthermore, watering me on a strict schedule, rather than checking if I am actually thirsty, is a common mistake. My water needs change with the seasons, the humidity, and the amount of sunlight I receive. Finally, a pot that is far too large for my root system means the vast volume of soil takes much longer to dry out, keeping my relatively small root ball wet for dangerously long periods.
As the rot sets in underground, I begin to send clear signals above ground, a desperate plea for help. The first sign is often a general loss of turgor pressure; my once firm, plump leaves become soft, limp, and may wrinkle. Critically, they will feel mushy and translucent, often starting with the lower, oldest leaves. I may start to discolor, turning yellow or brown from the base upwards. Unlike a simple thirst, where leaves wrinkle but remain firm, rot causes a catastrophic collapse. Eventually, my stem may turn black or brown and become soft. If the rot progresses to the crown—my central growing point—my chances of survival diminish drastically.
Saving me requires immediate and decisive action. I must be gently lifted from my pot so my root system can be fully inspected. All soil must be washed away to reveal the extent of the damage. Healthy roots are firm and white or light tan. Any roots that are black, brown, mushy, or slimy must be removed with a sterilized tool; this is a painful but necessary amputation. After the rotten material is cut away, it is crucial to let my remaining stem and roots dry out and callus over completely in a shaded, airy spot for several days. This callus acts as a bandage, sealing the wounds against further infection. Finally, I must be repotted into a fresh, dry, and very well-draining succulent mix within a pot that has an excellent drainage hole. Do not water me immediately; allow me a week or so in my new home to encourage new root growth toward the moisture.
