Plants and Herbs

Nepenthes (Pitcher Plant) Folklore and Magical Properties

Now that I’m home, I’ve been spending the day unpacking, straightening up the house, taking care of my cats and plants, and eating pho. It didn’t take me long to notice some new… uh, additions.

A close-up of an N. ventrata pitcher.
Audrey’s newest pitcher.

This is Audrey. Every so often, especially if she’s gotten plenty of humidity, she puts out gorgeous little pitchers. I reward her by hand-feeding her dried black soldier fly larvae.

A close-up of another pitcher on the same plant.
Another pitcher on the opposite side.

Since she seemed to be in particularly good humor when I came home, I thought now might be a good time to take a deeper look at the folklore and magical properties of the beautiful, unique, profoundly strange Nepenthes.

The plant genus Nepenthes is named for nepenthe, an ancient medicine said to heal sorrow and induce forgetfulness. It’s mentioned in ancient Greek literature, and is typically depicted as originating in Egypt.
It also appears in the Edgar Allan Poe poem “The Raven”:

Respite—respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore;
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”
Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”

An image of an open pitcher plant, displaying the "lid," slender neck, and round belly of the pitcher.
Photo by Phoebeud83dudc1f on Pexels.com

Nepenthes consists of numerous species. In garden centers and plant nurseries, you’re most likely to encounter N. x ventrata — a hybrid of a N. ventricosa and N. alata.

Pitcher plants prey on insects by providing sugar and water to lure them into their pitchers. Their leaves have nectaries — special glands that secrete sweet nectar — and their pitchers contain water and digestive enzymes. Insects are attracted to the presence of food and water, and end up caught in the pitchers where they eventually drown and get digested.
(They’re pretty much Hotel California for bugs.)

However, not all pitcher plants feed on insects. N. lowii, a species native to Borneo, is known for its… rather unique shape.
Toilets.
The pitchers look like toilets.
Not only do they look like toilets, they are toilets.
N. lowii has an interesting relationship with a local shrew species. As with insects, the shrews are attracted to the pitcher plant’s nectar. While they’re there, they generally end up crapping directly into the conveniently toilet-shaped pitchers. The shrews get free nectar, and N. lowii gets free nutrient rich shrew leavings.

A close up of the mouth of N. bicalcarata, showing the pitcher's "lid" and two pointy "teeth."
Nepenthes bicalcarata, known for its two pointy “teeth.” It has a mutualistic relationship with a species of carpenter ant that makes nests in the plant’s tendrils. The plant benefits by receiving nutrients in the form of dead ants and ant feces. Photo by Yufan Jiang on Pexels.com

Other pitcher plants have symbiotic relationships with frogs. The frogs hang out in the pitchers, just under their “lids.” They eat insects that are attracted to the plant, and, as with the shrews, leave their nutritious little doots behind. They help dispose of pest insects that are more likely to harm the pitcher plant than to feed it, and the plant still gets a boost of nutrients.

One other pitcher plant species, N. rajah, has pitchers large enough to snare rats. It’s a particularly visually striking species.

In pitcher plants’ native areas, they’re often used as a source of clean water. When the pitchers initially form, they come complete with a little bit of water in their bellies to dilute the plant’s digestive enzymes to a usable level. People will sometimes crack open a fresh pitcher and drink the water inside. The trick is to use a very fresh, young pitcher — once the pitcher has opened itself, and its “lid” is raised, it may be contaminated and is no longer safe to drink.

A close up of a young pitcher, with its "lid" still sealed.
This is an earlier image of the first pitcher pictured in this post. Notice how it’s greener, slimmer, and its “lid” hasn’t opened yet. Even in this state, it has a generous amount of liquid in the belly of the pitcher. At this stage, the pitcher hasn’t yet come into contact with any insects.

Interestingly, this water is more than just a refreshing drink on a hot day. It’s also used as medicine. Nepenthes water has been used to treat digestive issues and constipation (which makes sense, considering it’s just water and stuff that helps digest things), as well as urinary tract infections.
An extract of the plant is also used to prevent scar formation.

A view of particularly striking Nepenthes pitchers, with bright red hairs and streaks on their otherwise-green pitchers.
Photo by Egor Komarov on Pexels.com

There aren’t a whole lot of resources for those looking for typical European-based magical uses for Nepenthes species. From my own experience, these plants seem to be very useful for attraction. Just be warned — while they’re effective, they aren’t quite as docile and well-intentioned as something like rose or lavender. (All things considered, this probably isn’t too surprising for a carnivorous plant!)
They’re also helpful for defense and healing.
Lastly, Considering the enormous crossover between “plants that repel or get rid of pests” and “plants historically used for purification,” it may be worth experimenting with pitcher plants as a potential purification herb.

Elementally, pitcher plants are associated with Water.

If you have access to fresh pitchers, you can add the water to a ritual bath or window, door, and floor wash for attraction. Just make sure that these are fresh, unopened pitchers. You really don’t want to be dumping partially decayed bug soup into your bath.

If you don’t have access to them, then you can also use dried pitchers. Like any other part of a plant, they don’t last forever — the pitchers have a lifespan and naturally dry up and fall off after a while. Just make sure that whatever pitchers you use are cleaned up, free of insect parts, and completely dried.

Dried pitchers are suitable for container magic like jars, sachets, or spell bottles. They also look really cool when they’re pressed in a book or between glass.

I love carnivorous plants, but it’s not always easy to find resources for using them in western magic. Since I’ve begun keeping them and developing a close relationship with them, I’ve found that they have a wonderful variety of potential magical (and even medicinal) uses. Pitcher plants don’t just help keep homes bug-free, they’re also incredibly interesting and versatile friends to have!

Plants and Herbs

A tiny plant haul — nerve plant, ZZ, and more!

Since we’re swapping rooms around, my Handsome Assistant and I felt like it’d be a good idea to scope out some more little green guys to add to our family. (I also have a disco ball in my shower that I’ve been dying to put a plant in.)

So, armed with time to kill, we stopped by a local florist/nursery. We have a bit of a reputation there — in summer, especially right after we moved and were murdering our lawn, we were there nearly every week.

I usually have a pretty good idea of what I’m looking for when I go, but my Handsome Assistant is a bit more impulsive. There have been many occasions where I’ve had to disappoint him by pointing out that a cool looking plant is extremely poisonous, or else has space/light/care needs way beyond our means. He has an eye for really awesome plants, and I always feel bad doing it.

A collection of houseplants in a flat cardboard box.

This time, we came away with a nerve plant (Fittonia), what I think is a raven ZZ plant (Zamioculcas zamiifolia), a pretty pothos (Epipremnum aureum), and a Chinese evergreen (Aglaonema).

Some of these are listed as toxic in various resources because they contain calcium oxalate crystals. These crystals are a natural defense against herbivores, as the crystals are sharp and cause irritation to the mouth, throat, and stomach. This is rarely severe, and is a purely mechanical injury. It isn’t toxic the way that, say, the phytotoxins in lilies or the cardiac glycosides in foxglove are toxic. It’s more “toxic” in the way that trying to eat a handful of broken glass would be “toxic.” Damaging, rather than poisonous.

(There is a way that calcium oxalate can potentially raise the risk of kidney stones, but, since calcium oxalate isn’t very soluble, it’s a whole Thing that depends on fat absorption, the presence or absence of certain electrolytes, and so on. In the end, the main problem most people and animals have with calcium oxalate-containing plants is that their crystals can cause irritation, pain, and/or inflammation on contact.)

Nerve plants are known for being big, fussy babies. If they want water, they will wilt until they look dead. Give them a drink, and they perk right up. Some growers have success with treating them like ferns — keep them humid, keep them evenly moist, and don’t give them too much sunlight.

A nerve plant with dark green foliage and striking bright pink veins.

ZZ plants, on the other hand, are known for their hardiness. They like indirect sunlight and can deal with neglect. They’re very hardy and drought-tolerant — some sources even say that they can go for months without water and will grow in pretty much any lighting condition that isn’t a windowless closet. Needless to say, they thrive when their needs are adequately met, but they can definitely survive if you make a few mistakes here and there.

The funny thing about this plant is that I think it’s a variety known as a raven ZZ plant. This variety is known for its nearly black foliage. They’re also usually more expensive than regular ZZs. This specimen was labeled and priced as a regular ZZ plant despite its deep purple-black leaves, which I think might be due to a slightly damaged stem on one side (having worked in retail, sometimes things like that make life easier). Either way, it’s a beautiful little plant and I’m not complaining!

A closeup of the ZZ plant's foliage. The leaves are thick, waxy, shiny, and of a dark purple color.

Pothos are one of my favorite indoor plants. They grow easily, bounce back from wilting, and propagate like nobody’s business. I’ve even used them to propagate other plants — I stick a plant I want to root in a cup of water along with a pothos cutting. It seems like enough of the pothos’ natural rooting hormone ends up in the water to help the other plant along, thought this is by no means proven. All I know is things root faster, and everyone’s happy.

I’ve also developed a real soft spot for Aglaonema, or Chinese evergreen. These plants also thrive with neglect and can grow in a variety of conditions. I have one near my front door that doesn’t get much light and I routinely forget to water. It is the lushest, leafiest plant in the house, and recently put out some flowers. They’re a really lovely houseplant (honestly, think of the word “houseplant,” and the first mental image you get will probably be an Aglaonema) that’s good for difficult areas.

Next, we picked up a Sansevieria. These are also called snake plants, adder’s tongue, devil’s tongue, or mother-in-law’s tongue (but my mother-in-law is cool, so I don’t use that one). These plants are toxic due to the presence of saponins, but they’re also not trailing plants and pretty easy to put out of reach. Like the ZZ plant and Chinese evergreen, these plants deal with neglect very well. Give it bright, indirect light and a little water now and then, and it’ll be pretty happy.

Lastly, we got some peas.

I had pretty good luck with growing sugar snap peas last year, even though I planted them several months too late for my growing zone and the heat stunted them a bit. Determined to do better this time around, I picked up two packets of peas — one Sugar Daddy, a sweet, stringless bush vine pea; and one Sugar Magnolia, a vining pea with purple flowers and pods.

I’ve been wanting to try to expand the fruit tree guilds we started. Right now, we’ve got the apple tree that was here when we purchased the house, a smaller Chehalis apple, and a yellow egg plum tree. We’ve planted bulbs around the bases, as well as some blueberries, strawberries, garden sage, and yarrow, but I really want to maximize the space by using the fruit tree trunks as supports for vines. Some guides recommend Muscadine grapes, which would be amazing, but I think they’d overwhelm these baby trees at the moment. So, peas it is!

life · Plants and Herbs

Quantity: 15 (or, I will be eating strawberries until I die. Possibly of strawberries.)

We’re officially past our last expected frost date here, so I’ve been having Notions about making the balcony all fancy.

I started with two railing planters od garden sage, calendula, basil, and dill. While our spot doesn’t exactly get full sun, it gets several hours of direct sunlight in the afternoon, so these seemed like a suitable experiment. After all, I figured, if they don’t thrive out on the balcony, I can move them to my south-facing windows.

I also moved my hanging plant stand out there, and festooned it with mosquito plants, snapdragons, and pansies. We even got a small cherry tomato planter, some lettuce, and a raspberry bush.

Oh. And strawberries.

I had an idea that I thought would be neat — I could use a terracotta strawberry pot, plant it all around with strawberry starts, and put a vining plant at the top. I could train it to grow using the balcony as support, and it’ll look neat. I wasn’t really able to find a suitable plant with a vining habit, so I went with some crookneck squash in the end. I was able to find some strawberry starts, so I picked three different varieties and trucked them home, excited and ready to get my hands in some dirt.

The thing is, there are a couple of different ways that plant starts are sold. When we went to Home Depot, they had tons of individual Burpee starts in little dark green pots. When we went to the independent garden store, they had starts in white square packages. They were about the same circumference as the Burpee pots, so I figured the only difference was branding.

I’m going to pause for a moment to mention that I was also wearing a brand-new pair of glasses, which I feel may not be quite the correct prescription.

Anyhow, this is how I ended up with 47 strawberry plants.
I did not need or want 47 strawberry plants.
I have no idea what I’m going to do with 47 plants’ worth of strawberries.

Once I got the starts home and got a better look at the packaging, my stomach dropped into my knees. I pressed every spare container I could into service — old planter liners, spaghetti sauce jars, cartons, some terracotta pots I’d been planning to use for another project, you name it.

A windowsill filled with terracotta pots of tiny strawberry plants.
This is my bedroom windowsill, and also every other horizontal surface that gets basically any sunlight.

My balcony is covered in strawberries. My windows are covered in strawberries. I have strawberries growing in the fancy-pants greenhouse cabinet in my partner’s office. I wake up to strawberry plants. I trip over strawberry plants. I have yet to find anyone who wants spare strawberry plants.

A gif from Forrest Gump. "There's pineapple shrimp and lemon shrimp, coconut shrimp, pepper shrimp..."

They are the first things I see in the morning, and the last I see at night. I’ve been looking up recipes for pies, jams, sauces, salads, and brews. I’ve been hunting for reusable multi-gallon freezer bags. I’ve been researching deities who enjoy strawberries as offerings, in the hopes that I might be able to unload some of them like an overly friendly neighbor with too much zucchini.

It’s been about a week, and they’re flowering and thriving. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I don’t have the heart to just toss them, and, like I said, I don’t know anyone who wants them. I wouldn’t know how to ship them even if I did.

An image entirely filled with strawberries. Nothing else is visible.
An artist’s rendition of my life for the foreseeable future.

I have a sneaking suspicion that I’m going to get very tired of strawberries in the near future.