The place where... I'll need this someday... goes to live. Not organized, but strangely useful. What am I?

I guard your wealth, but may lend you more for a price. I am found by flowing water, be careful I do not burst.

My sides are woven, not sewn shut, yet still I do my part. I gladly hold what others pick, before the feast can start.

A place at home where green ambitions take root, tended by patient hands until buried life rises.

I am an empty pocket until you slide me on. I hug a soft cushion when the day is done