Hello, it is I, your Fiddle Leaf Fig. From my roots to my highest leaf, I am a complex, living organism. When you notice I am unwell, it is often a cry for help from below the soil. My most dreaded ailment is root rot. It is a silent, suffocating attack that begins where you cannot see. Let me explain what it feels like, so you might understand and help me heal.
My roots are my lifeline. They are not just anchors; they are my mouth and my lungs, absorbing water, nutrients, and, crucially, oxygen from the air pockets in the soil. When I am forced to sit in dense, waterlogged soil, it feels like I am drowning. The oxygen is cut off, and the delicate, fuzzy root hairs that do all the drinking begin to suffocate and die. This creates an opening for the ever-present fungi in the soil, like *Pythium* or *Phytophthora*, to invade. They are not evil; they are simply doing their job as decomposers, breaking down my dying tissue. To me, it is a painful decay that creeps up my system, blocking my vascular tissues and preventing me from transporting water and sustenance to my leaves.
I try my best to communicate my plight. Please, learn my language. The most common sign is when my leaves turn yellow, often starting with the older ones lower down, and then develop unsightly brown spots. These spots typically start in the center of the leaf or at the edges and work their way inward. You might see my leaves wilt, becoming soft and droopy, even though the soil is wet—a clear sign my roots cannot drink. The most telling sign is what you cannot see. If you gently lift me from my pot, my healthy roots should be firm and white or tan. Roots affected by rot will be dark brown or black, mushy, and will easily slough off. They will often have a musty, unpleasant smell of decay.
If you suspect I am suffering, you must act quickly. Gently remove me from my pot and wash the soil away from my roots to assess the damage. With sterile, sharp shears, carefully cut away all the soft, brown, mushy roots. Be ruthless; any rot left behind will spread. After the surgery, please repot me in a pot that has excellent drainage holes, using a fresh, well-aerating potting mix specifically designed for my kind—one that contains perlite, bark, or other chunky materials to allow air to reach my roots. Do not water me immediately. My wounded roots need a day or two to callous over. When you do water, do so sparingly, only when the top few inches of soil are dry.
Prevention is the greatest kindness you can offer me. It begins with the perfect home: a pot with ample drainage holes and a fast-draining soil mix. The single most important rule is to water me correctly. Please, do not water on a schedule. Instead, check my soil's moisture by sticking your finger two inches down. Water me thoroughly only when that soil feels dry. Ensure I never sit in a saucer of standing water. Finally, provide me with plenty of bright, indirect light. This energy helps me process the water you give me and grow strong, resilient roots capable of resisting disease.
