You’ve probably seen them. Those small, dark purple berries hanging from trees in suburban parking lots or along forest edges. Most people walk right past them. But for Robin Wall Kimmerer—a botanist, member of the Citizen Potawatomi Nation, and author of Braiding Sweetgrass—the serviceberry isn't just a snack for birds. It’s a manifesto.
Honestly, we’re living in a world that feels increasingly disconnected from the ground under our feet. We measure everything in dollars, cents, and "scarcity." Kimmerer’s essay, The Serviceberry: An Economy of Abundance, challenges that entire foundation. She argues that the serviceberry tree offers a different blueprint for how we should treat each other and the planet.
It’s about gift economies. It’s about the difference between a "commodity" and a "gift."
What the Serviceberry Actually Teaches Us
The serviceberry (Amelanchier) goes by many names: Juneberry, shadbush, saskatoon. It’s one of the first things to bloom in the spring, turning the woods white before the leaves even fully arrive. In her writing, Kimmerer uses the plant to illustrate a biological reality that humans have somehow forgotten.
The tree produces way more fruit than it needs.
If the tree tried to "hoard" its berries, they would just rot. The berries are meant to be eaten. By offering them freely to cedar waxwings, robins, and humans, the tree ensures its own survival. The birds carry the seeds elsewhere, and the cycle continues. In a capitalist framework, a surplus is something to be controlled to keep prices high. In the "serviceberry economy," a surplus is a reason for a party.
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Kimmerer points out that when we pick berries in the wild, we don't pay for them. They are a gift from the earth. This changes your relationship with the item. If you buy a pint of organic blueberries at a high-end grocery store for $8.99, you feel entitled to them. You demand they be perfect. But if you find a bush heavy with serviceberries on a morning hike, you feel something else entirely: gratitude.
That shift from entitlement to gratitude is the core of her argument.
Scarcity vs. Abundance: The Big Misunderstanding
Modern economics is built on the "scarcity mindset." The idea is that there isn't enough to go around, so we have to compete for resources. This competition drives up value.
Kimmerer flips this.
She notes that in indigenous gift economies, status isn't gained by how much you have, but by how much you give away. The serviceberry tree is the ultimate "wealthy" individual because it feeds everyone. Imagine if we viewed our own bank accounts that way.
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"The currency of a gift economy is relationship," Kimmerer writes. It’s a profound thought. When you receive a gift, you are bonded to the giver. When you buy a commodity, the transaction ends the moment the money changes hands. There is no lingering connection. No responsibility.
Why This Matters in 2026
We are currently facing a massive mental health crisis linked to loneliness and "eco-anxiety." A lot of that stems from the feeling that we are just cogs in a machine. Kimmerer’s work on the serviceberry suggests that the cure isn't just "buying more sustainable products." It's changing how we think about ownership.
Take a look at your own backyard. If you have a serviceberry tree, you have a front-row seat to a non-capitalist exchange. The squirrels aren't "stealing" the berries. They are participating in a system of mutual aid that has worked for thousands of years.
Kimmerer’s insights aren't just poetic; they are backed by her background as a PhD botanist. She bridges the gap between traditional ecological knowledge (TEK) and Western science. She understands the chemistry of the soil and the biology of the fruit, but she refuses to strip away the spiritual significance of the plant.
The Practicality of the Gift
People often dismiss these ideas as "too idealistic." But look at open-source software. Look at community gardens. Look at the way neighbors helped each other during the supply chain collapses of the early 2020s. Those are all forms of the serviceberry economy.
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When things get tough, the "scarcity" model often fails us. The "gift" model—built on trust and reciprocity—is what actually keeps communities alive.
Kimmerer isn't saying we should stop using money tomorrow. That’s not realistic. But she is asking us to recognize that not everything is a commodity. Your time isn't just "billable hours." The water you drink isn't just a "utility." The serviceberry isn't just "free food."
Real-World Action Steps for a Serviceberry Mindset
If you're moved by Kimmerer's philosophy, you don't have to go live in the woods to practice it. You can start small.
- Plant a serviceberry tree. If you have any land at all, plant one. It’s a hardy, beautiful native species that supports local pollinators and birds. You are literally planting a "gift" for the future.
- Practice "The Honorable Harvest." This is a key concept in Kimmerer's work. Never take the first one you see. Ask permission (even if it's just a mental pause). Take only what you need. Use everything you take. Share what you have.
- Identify your "Gifts." What do you have a surplus of? Maybe it’s not berries. Maybe it’s a skill like fixing bikes, baking bread, or navigating legal paperwork. How can you share that surplus without expecting an immediate 1:1 financial return?
- Support Local Food Sovereignty. Look for organizations that are trying to return land to indigenous stewardship or those creating urban "food forests."
- Change your language. Try to catch yourself when you refer to the natural world as "resources" or "natural capital." Try calling them "relatives" or "gifts" instead. It feels weird at first. But it changes how you move through the world.
The serviceberry reminds us that the world is inherently generous. The tree doesn't ask for a credit card before it lets the berries ripen. It just grows. It just gives. In a world that feels like it’s constantly taking, maybe it’s time we started acting a bit more like the tree.
Read Kimmerer's full essay or her book Braiding Sweetgrass for the deep dive into the botanical and cultural history of these plants. It might just change how you see your grocery list—and your life.
The most important thing to remember is that abundance isn't about having a lot of stuff. It’s about having enough to share. That’s the lesson of the serviceberry. It’s a lesson we desperately need to relearn.