Targum Pseudo-Jonathan on Genesis 9:20 is one of the most dreamlike details in the whole Flood cycle. Noah began to be a man working in the earth. And he found a vine which the river had brought away from the garden of Eden; and he planted it in a vineyard, and it flourished in a day; and its grapes became ripe, and he pressed them out.
Read it slowly. A river carried a vine out of Gan Eden. The flood waters, apparently, reached even the garden, and a single vine broke loose and drifted on the current until it washed up where Noah could find it. He plants it. It grows to full height in a single day. The grapes ripen. He presses wine from them.
This is Pseudo-Jonathan at its most mythic. The first vineyard of the post-Flood world is a stray shoot from Eden itself. Wine, in this telling, is paradise's contribution to the new earth — a gift with Eden's fingerprints on it.
But it is also a warning. Anything carrying Eden's power is dangerous in untrained hands. In the very next verses of Genesis, Noah drinks the wine and collapses in shame. The vine that grew in a day intoxicates in an hour.
The takeaway the Maggid draws: the gifts that come easy are not simple. A vine from paradise is still a vine, and the person who plants it had better learn its strength before he drinks.