A saga das suculentas: dos erros de principiante à paternidade das plantas

I still remember how I got into suculentas. It was a chill weekend at a local market. The sun was out, and this one stall had rows and rows of fat, chubby little plants that looked like they came out of a fairytale. The seller told me, “These are easy, just give them some sun, don’t water too much, they’ll be fine.” Sounded perfect for someone like me—aka plant killer.

suculenta

So I brought home my first one. A Haworthia, I think? Looked like tiny glass bubbles, super cute. That’s when the whole succulent journey started.

At first, I was obsessed. I checked on it every single day, even though it barely changed. I watered it way too often, left it baking under the sun, even put a glass cover on it for “extra warmth.” Yeah… it didn’t end well. The leaves turned mushy and black. It died from too much love.

I felt so bad. That’s when I started digging through forums, watching videos, reading blogs. I learned about the “soak and dry” method, how airflow is super important, and that sunlight isn’t just sunlight—there’s gentle light and there’s full-on death ray. I started mixing my own gritty soil, collecting more varieties, learning who likes shade, who hates the cold, who needs to be totally ignored in summer.

After a while, my balcony turned into a mini succulent jungle. Autumn was my favorite—dry air, gentle sun, and all my succulents started “coloring up.” My Echeveria turned wine red, the Sedeveria glowed mint green, and the fuzzy “Bear’s Paw” looked like a candy with tiny pink tips. Sometimes I’d come home super tired, but just looking at those healthy little guys made everything feel better.

But then… life happened.

Work got crazy. I had to travel a lot. The daily watering and repotting and wiping dust became “oops, forgot again” and “I’ll do it this weekend.” My beautiful chubby succulents started stretching out, looking weird and tired. Some got rained on and rotted, some got sunburned. It broke my heart a bit.

Now? I still keep a few. The tough ones. The survivors. I don’t fuss over them like I used to, but I still care. I try to give them some love on weekends, fix up their pots, pull out weeds. They’re not perfect, but they’re still with me.

Succulents taught me a lot. You can’t rush things. And caring too much can sometimes hurt more than help. They’re fragile but tough. Kinda like life, really.