You know what nobody tells you when you’re setting up your first planted tank? That the setup is actually the easy part. I mean, sure, arranging rocks and planting stems looks complicated when you’re watching those Japanese aquascaping videos on YouTube at 2am, but honestly – that’s just the beginning. The real work starts after you’ve filled it with water and stepped back to admire your creation.
I learned this the hard way with my second tank, a 30-gallon cube I was absolutely obsessed with. Spent weeks planning this thing – sketched layouts, ordered specific rocks online, even bought CO2 equipment I barely understood how to use. Set it up over a weekend and it looked… well, pretty decent for someone who’d only been doing this for six months. Had a nice carpet of Monte Carlo starting to fill in, some Rotala in the background, a piece of Spider Wood that actually looked like a miniature tree if you squinted.
First few weeks were great. Plants were pearling – that’s when they release oxygen bubbles and you feel like some kind of underwater gardening genius. Fish were happy, water was crystal clear, I was taking photos and posting them in aquascaping groups like I’d discovered something amazing. Then life happened. Work got crazy busy, I started dating someone new, and my Saturday morning tank routine became… well, whenever I got around to it.
Two months later my “nature aquarium” looked more like a nature disaster. The Monte Carlo had grown into these weird stringy mats that were floating around the tank. Rotala had grown so tall it was literally growing out of the water – I had red stems sticking up above the surface like some kind of aquatic mohawk. Water was cloudy, algae was taking over the rocks, and my poor fish looked stressed swimming through what had become an underwater jungle.
That’s when it hit me that aquascaping isn’t just about creating something beautiful – it’s about maintaining something beautiful. And maintenance isn’t glamorous. There’s no YouTube video called “Watch Me Siphon Mulm for Twenty Minutes” because honestly, who would watch that? But it’s the difference between having a tank you’re proud to show people and having a tank you make excuses about when friends come over.
The thing is, maintenance isn’t just busywork – it’s actually where you learn how everything works together. When you’re trimming plants every week, you start noticing which ones grow faster, which ones need more light, which ones start looking weird when your CO2 runs out. When you’re testing water parameters regularly (and yes, you actually need to do this, not just guess), you begin understanding how fish waste affects plant growth, how different fertilizers change things, why your tank crashes when you skip water changes.
I had to completely restart that 30-gallon. Pulled everything out, threw away plants that were beyond saving, cleaned rocks that were covered in black brush algae I’d let take over. It was honestly pretty depressing seeing months of work go into the trash because I’d gotten lazy about basic maintenance.
But starting over taught me something important – maintenance isn’t separate from aquascaping, it’s part of aquascaping. Every time you trim a plant, you’re making design decisions. Every time you clean the glass or vacuum the substrate, you’re preserving the aesthetic you worked to create. It’s like… imagine spending hours arranging furniture in your living room and then never vacuuming or dusting again. Eventually all that careful arrangement gets lost under the mess.
The tools matter more than I initially thought, too. When I started, I was using kitchen scissors to trim plants – which works, sort of, but it’s like trying to do surgery with a butter knife. Bought proper aquascaping scissors during my tank rebuild and wow, what a difference. These long, curved scissors let you reach into tight spaces without disturbing other plants, make clean cuts that don’t leave ragged edges that invite algae, actually allow you to trim with precision instead of just hacking away.
Got tweezers too – the really long ones designed for planted tanks. Game changer for replanting stem cuttings or moving small plants around. Before that I was trying to use my fingers and basically destroying my aquascape every time I wanted to adjust something. Ever tried planting a tiny piece of moss while reaching through 18 inches of water? Your hand gets tired, you lose fine motor control, you end up dropping things and stirring up substrate and generally making a mess.
Water changes became this weekly ritual I actually started looking forward to. Sunday mornings, coffee in hand, testing kit out, getting my hands wet. There’s something meditative about the routine – siphoning out old water while cleaning the substrate, preparing new water with the right temperature and dechlorinator, slowly refilling while being careful not to disturb the plants. It’s like meditation, except at the end you’ve accomplished something concrete.
Learning to prune properly was probably the biggest breakthrough in my maintenance routine. Different plants need completely different approaches – something I had to figure out through trial and error because nobody explains this stuff clearly online. Stem plants like Rotala and Ludwigia, you cut them and replant the tops, which gives you more plants while keeping the original stems bushy. Carpeting plants need regular “haircuts” to prevent them from growing up instead of spreading out. Bigger plants like Amazon swords just need old leaves removed when they start yellowing.
The timing matters too. Trim too often and you stress the plants. Wait too long and they take over your carefully planned layout. I keep a tank journal now – sounds nerdy, I know, but it helps me remember when I last trimmed what, when I added fertilizers, when I noticed problems starting. Patterns emerge when you write things down. Like how my Monte Carlo always gets stringy about three weeks after trimming, or how my Rotala starts looking pale when I’m running low on iron.
Algae became less of a mystery once I got consistent with maintenance. Turns out most algae problems aren’t really algae problems – they’re balance problems. Too much light for the amount of CO2 and nutrients, or inconsistent maintenance that creates unstable conditions. Regular water changes, consistent trimming, steady fertilizer dosing – boring stuff that prevents the dramatic algae blooms I used to deal with constantly.
My main tank now is a 40-gallon long that I’ve been maintaining consistently for over a year. It’s not the most complex layout I’ve ever done, but it’s the most successful because I learned to see maintenance as part of the creative process. Every week I’m making small adjustments – trimming this plant slightly shorter to maintain proportions, moving that rock a few inches to improve the composition, replanting cuttings to fill in bare spots.
The fish are happier too, which honestly I hadn’t expected. Consistent water parameters, regular cleaning, healthy plant growth – turns out fish actually care about this stuff. My tetras school more tightly now, my shrimp are constantly grazing instead of hiding, even my Siamese algae eater seems more active when the tank is well-maintained.
People ask me what the hardest part about aquascaping is, expecting me to say something about design principles or plant selection. But honestly? It’s developing the discipline to do the unglamorous work every single week, even when you don’t feel like it, even when the tank looks fine, even when you’d rather be doing literally anything else. Because that’s what keeps your underwater world thriving instead of just surviving.
That Monte Carlo carpet I’m working on now? It’s taken six months of weekly trims to get it dense and even. Not Instagram-worthy time-lapse material, just consistent maintenance that slowly builds something beautiful. And that’s fine with me.
After leaving corporate sales, Marcus discovered aquascaping and never looked back. His tanks turned into therapy—art, science, and patience rolled together. He writes about real mistakes, small wins, and the calm that comes from tending tiny underwater worlds instead of business meetings.
