From my perspective as a Lithops, my roots are my most vulnerable and vital connection to life. Unlike many plants, I do not have a vast, fibrous root system designed to aggressively seek out water and nutrients. My roots are few, surprisingly long and delicate, and primarily consist of a single, dominant taproot. This structure is an evolutionary adaptation to my native, arid environments. My taproot anchors me deep into the gritty soil to find scarce moisture, while the finer, lateral roots are incredibly fragile. They are easily broken, and any significant damage can cause immense stress, shock, or even lead to my demise by rot, as it creates an entry point for pathogens. When you decide to repot me, please understand that you are handling the very core of my being.
My internal calendar is dictated by my growth cycle, not the seasons of temperate plants. The absolute best time to undertake this operation is at the very beginning of my new growth phase, which is typically after my summer dormancy, in late summer or early autumn. At this time, I am naturally preparing to grow new roots and am most resilient to the process. Repotting me during my dormant period or when I am flowering is highly stressful and ill-advised. Before you even touch me, please prepare my new home. I require a pot with excellent drainage holes and a specialized, extremely gritty soil mix—typically 80-90% mineral grit like pumice, perlite, or coarse sand, with only 10-20% organic matter. This mix must be dry. Having everything ready beforehand minimizes the time my sensitive roots are exposed to the air.
The key to a safe extraction is patience and a complete lack of pulling. Do not simply grab my body and tug, as this will almost certainly sever my taproot. First, gently squeeze or tap the sides of my current pot to loosen the soil's grip. If I am stubborn, you can carefully run a blunt knife around the inner edge of the pot to free the root ball. The safest method is to turn the pot on its side and gently ease me out, allowing the old soil and my entire root system to slide out together under the force of gravity. Any force applied directly to my leaves or roots is dangerous and traumatic.
Once I am free from the pot, you must assess my root ball. Do not aggressively shake or wash the old soil away. Instead, very gently, using your fingers, a soft brush, or a chopstick, tease the old soil apart, working from the bottom upwards and the edges inward. Your goal is to expose the roots without breaking them. Be especially mindful of the main taproot. Inspect the roots carefully; they should be firm and white or light tan. Any roots that are black, mushy, or papery and dry should be carefully snipped away with sterile, sharp scissors. This minor pruning is beneficial, as it removes dead material and can encourage new, healthy root growth in my fresh, well-draining medium.
Now, place a layer of my new, dry gritty mix in the bottom of the new pot. Hold me over the pot, positioning my taproot so it points straight down. Gently sift the new soil around my roots, using a chopstick or similar tool to carefully guide the mix into all the spaces without compacting it. Ensure I am planted at the same depth I was before; burying my body too deeply invites rot. Once I am stable, do not water me. This is the most critical rule. My disturbed roots need time to callous over any micro-abrasions. Place me in a location with bright, indirect light and wait. You must withhold water for at least a week, and often for two to three weeks, to allow me to recover and begin sending out new rootlets in search of moisture. Only when you see signs of new growth or slight wrinkling on my sides should you consider a careful, initial watering.
