At first weedy and full of needles unseen, it’s easy to mistake the raspberry bush for a nuisance, the way it pushes through the neighbor’s fence uninvited and spreads woody roots across your tiny garden space, shading the basil, threatening to overpower the tomatoes. The tomatoes fight back though with their own wild smell and sinewy vines. Still, the bush remains a source of contention, cut down almost in full last spring. It came back stronger, offering promise underneath its leaves regardless. I poke at the plant now, curious and amazed at its resilience, pick the berries one by one, imagine all they might become: buttermilk scones, ice cream toppings, dressed-up granola. Something offered; something shared. A peacemaker, this fruit on the vine.
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