Every data center makes gentle heat, all day, every day — and almost all of it is blown into the sky. We catch that warmth and give it to greenhouses, so real food grows in our neighborhoods twelve months a year.
A computer is secretly a heater. Nearly every watt it uses becomes warmth — and data centers use a lot of watts. Today, that warmth gets pushed out through fans and cooling towers, doing nothing for anyone.
Meanwhile, a greenhouse in a Virginia winter needs exactly that: not steam, not a power plant — just gentle, steady warmth. The match is almost suspiciously good. We don’t make energy, and we don’t claim to. We reuse rejected heat, at the fence line, before it leaves.
Virginia thinks so too — HB 323 (2026) made ours the first state in the country to direct action on data-center waste-heat reuse.
Warm water leaves the servers, gives its warmth to the greenhouse through a steel wall (the two waters never touch), and comes back cool, ready to go again. A tank stores extra warmth for cold nights, a small backup heater stands by, and a meter counts every bit of heat — so the promise is a number, not a vibe.
From a backyard to a whole town — the physics doesn’t change, only the size of the harvest.
A backyard greenhouse kept warm all winter by one quiet compute node. For families, food ministries, schools, and restaurants.
See the Pod →A container of warm computing beside a community greenhouse. For nonprofits, churches, campuses, and small towns.
See the Unit →Greenhouses at a data center’s fence line, growing at town scale. For places where a data center is coming — or already hums.
See the Campus →
At full campus scale we’re designing for about 300,000 lb of produce a year† — the daily fruit and vegetables of some 900 people†, every day, never a season.
Before a single wholesale contract is signed, a designed share is promised to pantries, schools, and SNAP/EBT market stands. We call it the community food guarantee, and keeping it is literally this company’s job.
I used to get thrown away every single day. Now I warm strawberries in February. If you’d like a garden warmed by the internet — at your house, your school, your church, or your whole town — come say hello. We love this question.
If it’s yours, let’s make sure something green comes with it.
