Pull Up a Chair. We Saved You Some Seeds.

Jordan’s birthday, a fall garden in a bag, and why there will always be something to share at The Garden Table.

Jordan did a thing.

Now, if you’ve spent any amount of time here on The Porch, you already know those words could lead absolutely anywhere.

There could be chickens involved.

There could be something growing somewhere I didn’t know we had planted.

There could be an egg in his pocket.

There could apparently be homemade seed tape.

At this point, I have learned to simply observe first and ask questions later.

But this time, Jordan’s “thing” started with little bags of seeds.

One by one, he sat down and started putting together packets—turnips, radishes, collards, cauliflower, cabbage, and the rest of the things someone would need to get a fall garden going.

And these weren’t for us.

They were for you.

It’s His Birthday. So Naturally, Y’all Get the Gifts.

We decided that this year, Jordan’s birthday would look a little different.

Instead of making the celebration about what he could receive, we wanted to pour a little something back into the people who have pulled up a chair at The Garden Table.

Apparently Jordan heard “a little something” and translated that into:

Let’s give them a whole fall garden.

Because of course he did.

😂

Our Garden Table members are receiving a Fall Garden Starter Kit, filled with seeds chosen to help them get food in the dirt this season.

But Jordan didn’t stop there.

Because again…

Jordan.

Along with the seeds, each member is also getting a fig start.

And when I realized what he was putting together, I couldn’t help but think about what that really means.

Some Things Feed You Now. Some Things Feed You Later.

The seeds in those little packets have a job to do.

Plant them.
Water them.
Tend to them.
And, God willing, they’ll feed you this season.

But that little fig start?

That’s different.

You plant that knowing you’re investing in something beyond today.

You give it a home. You care for it. You watch it establish itself. You wait.

And one day, that little start becomes a tree.

A tree that can feed your family.

A tree you can take cuttings from.

A tree you can share.

Maybe one day, somebody will be standing in your yard while you hand them a fig cutting and say:

“Here. Take this home and grow it.”

And suddenly, the gift keeps moving.

That’s when it hit me:

The seeds will feed them this season.
The fig may feed them for years.

And if I had to explain Jordan to somebody who had never met him, I don’t know if I could come up with anything more fitting than that.

That’s Jordan.

Jordan isn’t much for fanfare.

He’ll quietly disappear into the garden and come back with his pockets full of vegetables.

He’ll figure out some ridiculously simple way to do something and look at me like I’m the strange one for being impressed.

And somewhere along the way, he’ll inevitably find something to give away.

Seeds.

Plants.

Knowledge.

Food.

Time.

Whatever we have learned here at 1737, his instinct has always been to figure out how somebody else can use it too.

That’s Jordan.

And honestly?

That’s The Garden Table.

There’s Always Something to Share at the Table.

When we created The Garden Table, I didn’t want it to feel like another subscription.

I didn’t want it to be a place where you simply paid a few dollars, read a post, and went about your business.

I wanted it to feel like you had actually pulled up a chair.

Like you were sitting with us while we talked about what we’re planting, what worked, what absolutely did NOT work, what we’re harvesting, what we’re learning, and what we’re trying next.

And sometimes, when you sit at somebody’s table long enough, they send you home with something.

Around here, that might be a handful of seeds.

It might be a fig start.

It might be something we haven’t even thought of yet.

But there will always be something to share.

Because this was never supposed to be about us growing everything.

It’s about more of us growing something.

It’s about somebody opening one of those little seed packets, putting a few seeds into the dirt, and discovering that maybe they really can grow food.

It’s about that first harvest.

That first meal.

That first moment when you look at something on your plate and realize:

I grew that.

And maybe, years from now, it’s about standing beneath a fig tree that started as one little birthday gift from some man in New Orleans who apparently decided the appropriate way to celebrate getting another year older was to make sure everybody else had something to plant.

😂

That sounds about right.

Happy Birthday, Jordan.

You could have asked for something for yourself.

Instead, you sat down and packed seeds.

You propagated figs.

You gave away gardens.

And somehow, without making a big deal about any of it, you reminded me again why we’re doing this.

So to everybody sitting with us at The Garden Table:

Pull up your chair.

We saved you some seeds.

And Jordan?

Happy Birthday.

Keep growing things.

Keep giving things away.

Keep being exactly the kind of man who thinks a birthday celebration should end with somebody else putting food in the dirt.

Cultivating community. Harvesting home.

That’s The Porch.

And that is most definitely Jordan.