By seven the fence looks like a parlor that forgot to grow up. Each raspberry has a velvet ottoman no bigger than a thimble. The berries greet the leaf first. They nod to the gardener. Only then does a berry sit on exactly one stem, as if two seats at once would be crowding the cane.
We asked at the kiosk. "I thought someone had left doll furniture in the canes," said the woman who sells string and jam jars. "Then a berry nodded at my basket, the ottoman caught the light, and I realized I had been staring at the whole hedge instead of saying good morning to the one in the front row."
The gardener kept a pencil note in the complaint-and-thanks book: if the leaf has not been greeted, please do not hurry the sitting. The next morning a neighbor came back with the same empty cup and waited through the greeting, the nod, and the one small seat. She said the berries looked like they had learned to rest without making a fuss.