From our perspective beneath the soil, water is a double-edged sword. Our roots are not just straws for drinking; they also need to breathe. When you overwater us, you flood our air pockets. The soil becomes a dense, soggy prison, suffocating us. We cannot perform basic respiration, and our root cells begin to die, becoming soft, brown, and mushy. This is root rot, a death sentence if not caught. In contrast, when you underwater, our roots are left gasping for a different reason—there is simply no moisture to absorb. We become brittle, thin, and desiccated. We shrink and cannot anchor the plant firmly or gather the nutrients needed to sustain the lush growth above. We are the first to suffer in both extremes, and our distress signals travel upwards.
Our stems are the pillars of the entire plant, designed to store water and support weight. Overwatering makes our tissues weak and bloated. The cells fill with too much water until they literally burst, creating soft, translucent spots. We lose our rigidity, becoming limp and unable to hold the plant upright. You may notice us becoming unusually soft and squishy to the touch, and our color may fade. Underwatering tells a different story of desperation. As the water reserves in our tissues are depleted, we begin to shrivel and wrinkle. We lose our plump, firm characteristic and become thin and weak. We cannot transport water effectively, and the entire structure begins to droop and wilt from a lack of internal pressure, making us look deflated and lifeless.
We, the leaves, are the most visible billboards of our internal state. In an overwatered Jade plant, we turn soft, mushy, and translucent. We may yellow dramatically and drop off at the slightest touch, even while feeling wet and heavy. This is a direct result of the root rot below; we are being poisoned and starved simultaneously. The opposite is true when we are thirsty. We start to pucker, wrinkle, and lose our characteristic glossy plumpness. We become thin, flat, and rubbery. In a severe state, we will turn brown and crispy, particularly at the edges and tips, as our tissues die from dehydration. You might also notice we begin to droop and feel limp, a clear sign our water storage is critically low and we are conserving the last drops for survival.
Beyond individual parts, our entire system goes into emergency mode. Whether drowning or parched, our primary goal shifts from growth to survival. Overwatering triggers an anaerobic environment, promoting fungal and bacterial growth that attacks our weakened roots. Our energy is diverted to fighting disease rather than producing new stems and leaves, causing a complete halt in growth. The soil may even develop a musty odor from the decay. Underwatering forces us into a state of dormancy. We shut down non-essential functions to conserve water, which means all new growth ceases. Any existing new leaves may abort, and we become highly susceptible to pests like spider mites, who are attracted to stressed plants. In both cases, the vibrant green color indicative of health fades, replaced by shades of yellow, brown, or pale green signaling profound distress.
