Pitcher plants singing Siren songs on a Sunday morning hoping for a few flies to stop by…
These plants secrete sweet nectar to lure unsuspecting insects, which then become trapped in the tubes. The smooth sides are so slippery the insects cannot escape. They eventually drown in the liquid in the tubes and are absorbed by the plant.
One could think of this as a metaphor for pitfalls of life: violence, addiction, destructive acts. One could read it as a tale of caution. One could also marvel at this ingenious method of survival that has evolved, and remember there is a purpose for every living thing.
To everything there is a season,
a time for every purpose under the sun.
A time to be born and a time to die;
a time to plant and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
a time to kill and a time to heal ...
a time to weep and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn and a time to dance ...
a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing;
a time to lose and a time to seek;
a time to rend and a time to sew;
a time to keep silent and a time to speak;
a time to love and a time to hate;
a time for war and a time for peace.