I’ve been thinking so much about where this journey truly began, and it always leads me back to my great-grandparents—Cora Olive Burdess and Robert Darrel Burdess ❤️.

Long before I was even born, they were tending to one of the most loved greenhouses in the 1970s, 80s and 90s. It wasn’t just a place where plants grew—it was a place where love lived. I’ve been told stories of my great-grandma, our sweet Olive Lady, walking through rows of green with the softest smile, checking every leaf, every sprout, as if each one was her child. She didn’t just grow plants; she nurtured them in a way that felt like magic. She talked to them, she sang to them, she gave them her heart. And in return, that greenhouse thrived, alive with the kind of energy only love can create.
I never got to fully experience those days the way I wish I could have. I never got to stand beside her in the morning light, hear the gentle hum of a greenhouse waking up, or watch her hands—gentle and strong—move from vine to vine with the care of someone who truly understood life in its quietest form. Both she and my great-grandpa are gone now, and there are moments where the ache of that absence is so heavy. I imagine the warmth of that greenhouse, the smell of the soil, the soft sigh of leaves brushing against each other, and I feel their presence hovering there, like they’re whispering: Keep going. This is what we started for you.
When I work in my own space now, planting, potting, packing orders, I feel them with me. In the rustle of leaves, in the quiet moments of watering, even in the dirt under my fingernails—I feel her love. I see my great-grandpa’s steady hands in the way I organize and care for the little things, making sure everything has its place. They left behind more than memories—they left me a legacy of love that can’t be measured.

JessesLeaf isn’t just a business. It’s a piece of them, living again. Every sprout that pushes its way toward the light, every order carefully packed and sent off, every little cutting that survives and grows—all of it is a continuation of the greenhouse they built with their hearts. I carry them in everything I do. This is my love letter to them, my way of saying, I see what you created, and I promise to keep it alive.
Even though they’re gone, I like to believe that somewhere, they’re watching as the leaves unfurl and the roots take hold. And maybe, just maybe, they know that their love didn’t stop with them—it’s here, in my hands, in my heart, and in every little piece of green I grow. 🌿 love you big time olive lady and bobert ❤️🪴