Plants

Plants are more than pretty greenery in this book—they're practically magical. Gram's roses are said to be love-inducing, people dine in trees, and the old trees in the woods groan and make noises. Oh, and Gram has a plant that is supposed to represent Lennie's health (throughout Lennie's life, whenever she's gotten sick, the plant has, too). Both Gram and Uncle Big make their living taking care of the town's plants, and when Lennie cuts Gram's roses, otherwise patient Gram snaps and yells at Lennie for being selfish.

Each plant means something different, though, so let's take a look at a couple plants individually.

Trees

Trees provide solace for the characters. Remember how Gram's expression, "out of their tree," means upset or crazy? Being in their tree must mean the opposite then—cool, calm, and collected. To this end, to find some peace, Lennie eats her lunch in a tree when she wants to avoid the gaze of her fellow students. It doesn't work, though, because Joe shows up. But when Lennie and Joe are together, it's generally a good thing, so his arrival in the tree fits right in with Gram's turn of phrase.

Along this line, Joe and Lennie are often surrounded by trees. Remember the full bedroom set in the middle of the forest? Tres romantic, oui? And in a life that often feels terrible, Lennie always feels good with Joe. So again (and again), trees represent peace and calm in an uncertain time. It's also probably worth pointing out that climbing a tree takes you closer to the sky—but to really dig into that, you'll have to read up on the sky elsewhere in this section.

The Lennie Plant

And then, of course, there's the Lennie plant, which gets more and more wilted as the story progresses. It seems really ominous, until Lennie comes up with a theory on why the plant is dying. She explains:

I look at the sickly Lennie houseplant on the counter and know that it's not me anymore. It's who I used to be, before, and that's why it's dying. That me is gone. (32.6)

Okay, that makes us feel a little better. The plant doesn't show that Lennie grows more messed up throughout the story—it shows that she's growing away from who she used to be. Just as she stops being a companion pony (more on that elsewhere in this section), the plant stops mirroring her as well. Because of this, the last line of the novel (before the epilogue) feels comforting, almost cleansing. Check it out:

I walk over to the edge of the cliff, so I'm right over the falls. I take the plant out of its pot, shake the dirt off the roots, get a good grip, reach my arm back, take one deep breath before I pitch my arm forward, and let go. (38.23)

Lennie does a lot to prep for the plant-toss, and each phrase builds suspense to the two simple, dramatic words "let go." We can practically see the dead plant falling out of sight, and with it—metaphorically—the old Lennie, too.