Hello, human caretaker. It is I, your Echeveria. I sense your concern, your longing to see me flourish and expand into the magnificent succulent specimen you know I can be. My growth, or lack thereof, is my way of communicating. Please, listen to what I am trying to tell you through my stillness.
You place me on a shelf because I am beautiful, but I am, at my core, a solar-powered being. I crave intense, direct sunlight for several hours each day. When the light is too dim or too brief, my very survival mechanism kicks in: I enter a state of energy conservation. I cannot photosynthesize enough sugars to fuel new growth. You may notice my form stretching out, reaching pathetically for any stray photon (a process you call etiolation). My vibrant colors may fade to a dull green. I am not being lazy; I am starving for sunlight.
This is our most common misunderstanding. You show love with water, but I receive it as a threat. My plump leaves are my water reservoirs. When you water me too frequently, my roots drown and rot in the perpetually wet soil. Without healthy roots, I cannot absorb water or nutrients, and growth ceases entirely as I fight to simply stay alive. Conversely, if you neglect me for too long, my reservoirs deplete. I will sacrifice my lower leaves to sustain my core, leaving me no extra energy to produce new ones. I need a cycle of thorough drought between deep waterings.
My roots need to breathe. If you have planted me in dense, moisture-retentive soil, every gasp of air is a struggle, and my roots are constantly stressed. Furthermore, if my pot has no drainage hole, water pools at my base, creating a swampy grave for my root system. Even if the soil is perfect, a pot that is too large holds excess moisture for far too long around my small root ball. I may also simply be root-bound, having exhausted all the space and nutrients in my current tiny terracotta prison, with no room left to expand.
There are times of the year when my growth is meant to pause. Many of my kind experience a summer dormancy when extreme heat forces us to conserve energy. More commonly, we slow down significantly during the shorter, cooler days of winter. During this natural dormancy, I will not put out new growth. This is a healthy rest period, not a problem to be solved. Pushing growth with fertilizer or extra water during this time will only harm me.
Sometimes, unseen forces are at work. Tiny pests like mealybugs or aphids may be sucking the very life from my leaves and stem, diverting my energy to defense instead of growth. Alternatively, while I am not a heavy feeder, I do require some nutrients. If I have been in the same soil for years, all the minerals may have been depleted. I have no building blocks left to create new cells, leaving me stagnant and pale.
