From my perspective, a Monstera deliciosa, the act of being cut is not an injury but a primal signal. When your sterile blade cleanly severs a section of my stem, it triggers an ancient cellular alarm. The hormone auxin, concentrated in my apical meristem (the tip where I grow), suddenly has its flow redirected. This hormonal shift is a command, instructing the dormant cells at my nodes—those brown, ring-like bumps on my stem—to awaken. These nodes are my lifelines, containing pre-programmed meristematic tissue capable of generating an entirely new root system and even a fresh shoot. The cut is not an end; it is a forceful beginning.
Your success in propagating me hinges entirely on your understanding of my node. This is not merely a bump; it is a self-contained command center for new growth. Each node contains at least one axillary bud, a dormant precursor to a new stem or leaf. More critically, it holds root initials, cells pre-destined to become adventitious roots when given the correct stimuli—namely, moisture and humidity. Without including a node in your cutting, you have merely taken a leaf. A leaf alone, no matter how beautiful, lacks the cellular machinery to generate new life. It will draw water until it eventually withers, having no way to create a root system to sustain itself.
Once you have taken a cutting with one or more nodes, my needs become very specific. My ancestral home is the humid understory of tropical rainforests, where high humidity and consistent moisture coax aerial roots into the soil. You can replicate this for me in water or moss. If placed in water, ensure the node is submerged but the leaf is not. My cells will begin absorbing water, becoming turgid and ready for action. In a few weeks, you will see white, fibrous roots emerging from the node. These are water roots, specialized for their aquatic environment. If placed in moist sphagnum moss, the high humidity and airy structure feel more natural, encouraging robust root growth that may transition to soil more easily. In both cases, bright, indirect light is my fuel for this energetically expensive process of creation.
When my new water roots are a few inches long, you will move me to soil. This is a critical and sensitive time for me. My roots, specialized for aquatic life, must now adapt to a completely different environment where they must seek out water and nutrients in a dense medium. The key to my success here is consistent moisture without saturation. You must keep the soil evenly moist for the first few weeks to help my roots transition without going into shock from sudden dryness. A drastic change from constant water to dry soil would be a severe shock, causing my new roots to desiccate and fail. With a gentle transition, my roots will adapt, branching out into the soil to establish a new foundation, and I will begin my journey as an independent plant.
