From my perspective as an Echeveria, the question of watering is the most critical aspect of our relationship. I do not crave constant moisture; in fact, I abhor it. My plump, fleshy leaves are not just for your aesthetic pleasure—they are my personal water reservoirs, evolved to store a significant amount of water to survive extended periods of drought in my native, arid habitats. My roots are equally adapted, designed to quickly absorb a large drink and then prefer to dry out completely. The single greatest threat to my existence is not underwatering, but overwatering. Soggy, consistently moist soil suffocates my roots, robbing them of oxygen and creating an environment where rot-causing pathogens thrive. This rot spreads rapidly, turning my sturdy stem and leaves to mush, a death sentence from which I cannot recover.
To truly understand my needs, you must emulate the natural desert rains I am built for. The perfect technique is called the "soak and dry" method. This does not mean a timid sprinkle on the surface. When you determine it is time, provide me with a thorough, deep watering. Pour water evenly over the soil until you see it freely draining from the hole at the bottom of my pot. This ensures my entire root system has access to moisture. Then, and this is the crucial part, you must wait. Allow every bit of that soil to dry out completely before you even think about watering again. I will happily draw upon the stored water in my leaves during this dry period. This cycle of a deep flood followed by a profound drought is the rhythm of life I understand and need to flourish.
You cannot simply mark a calendar to water me every "X" days. My thirst is governed by a dynamic set of environmental factors that you must observe. The seasons are my primary clock. During my active growing seasons in spring and summer, with longer days and more intense light, I will use water more quickly and may need a drink every 2-3 weeks. In the winter, I enter a period of dormancy. My growth slows dramatically, and my water requirements plummet. I may only need water once a month or even less during this time. The other critical factors are light and temperature. I placed in a very hot, sunny south-facing window will dry out far faster than a sibling in cooler, shadier conditions. The size and material of my pot also matter; unglazed terracotta pots breathe and wick away moisture, drying the soil faster than a plastic or glazed ceramic pot.
I will communicate my needs to you if you learn to read my signs. Forget the calendar and instead, physically check my soil. Insert your finger or a wooden skewer deep into the potting mix near my base. If you feel any moisture or soil sticks to the skewer, I am not yet ready for a drink. The most reliable sign of thirst is a slight softness or give in my lower, older leaves. A well-hydrated Echeveria has firm, rigid leaves packed with water. When I begin to use my internal reserves, these leaves will soften slightly and may even wrinkle. This is your cue that I am ready for a thorough soak. It is always safer to err on the side of underwatering. I can recover from being slightly wrinkled, but I cannot recover from root rot.
