Greetings, aspiring propagator. I am a Crassula, a resilient member of the succulent family. From my perspective, propagation is not a human-directed task but a fundamental, ancient instinct to ensure my lineage continues. When a leaf or stem is separated from the parent plant, it triggers a powerful survival response. Here is a guide to understanding and assisting in this remarkable process from my point of view.
My leaves and stems are storehouses of life. They are packed with water, nutrients, and, most importantly, meristematic cells. Think of these cells as my blank slate cells, waiting for a signal to become anything I need them to be—a root, a shoot, or an entirely new plant. When a part of me is cleanly severed, it's a signal that my existence is threatened. This injury, if handled correctly, doesn't mean death; it signals the beginning of a new independent life. The energy stored within my fleshy tissues is enough to sustain me while I focus all my efforts on creating new roots and leaves.
How you remove a part of me is crucial. For a stem cutting, please use a sharp, clean tool. A crushing, ragged tear from human hands damages my vascular tissues and invites rot, which overwhelms my defenses. A clean cut allows me to compartmentalize the wound, creating a protective callus. For leaf propagation, the most important detail is often missed: you must gently twist the leaf from my stem, ensuring you get the entire base, the meristematic "bud," where new growth will emerge. If this base remains on the parent stem, the leaf may still callus but will never produce a new plant.
After separation, I need time. Do not place me directly into soil or water. This period of "callusing" is when I seal my wound. I draw upon my internal resources to form a dry, hard layer over the cut surface. This scab is my primary defense against the microscopic organisms in the soil that would otherwise cause me to decay. Placing me in a bright, dry, airy spot for several days to a week is essential. Patience here is the greatest kindness you can offer me.
Once callused, I am ready to seek water. You can place my stem cutting callus-end down on or in a dry, well-draining soil mix. For a leaf, simply lay me on top of the soil. Do not bury me. My mission now is to send out roots. I require bright, indirect light. The temptation to water me immediately is strong, but I am still living off my internal stores. A light misting every few days can signal to my emerging roots that moisture is near, but soggy soil will be my end. My first tiny, hair-like roots will emerge, feeling their way downward, driven by geotropism.
With a fledgling root system established, I can finally begin the next phase. The meristematic cells that were once dormant now activate to produce a new shoot. For a stem cutting, this will be leaves emerging from nodes along the stem. For a leaf cutting, it is a truly magical sight: a tiny, perfect Crassula pup will emerge directly from the base of the original leaf. This new plant will slowly draw the energy from the "mother leaf" until it shrivels and falls away, its purpose fulfilled. Only once this new growth is evident should you begin to water more thoroughly, treating me as the independent individual I have become.
