Someone Still Had to Water the Tomatoes

This week, we made the difficult decision to close Farm School for two days and send students home early on a third day because of poor air quality.

It wasn't a decision we wanted to make.

If you know Urban Green Harvest, you know we believe childhood belongs outdoors. One of our favorite sayings is, "There's no bad weather, just bad clothing." Rain? We pull on rain boots. Snow? We bundle up. Cold mornings are often some of our favorites around the campfire. Wind, mud, and puddles are all part of the adventure.

Air quality, however, is different.

It's one of the very few reasons we ever close.

Children can't put on a better pair of lungs.

So while the children stayed home, the farm didn't.

The tomatoes still needed water.

The chickens still needed to be fed.

The weeds kept growing.

The zucchini didn't decide to wait for clearer skies.

The bees continued moving from flower to flower.

The garden carried on, just as it always does.

As we worked through the gardens this week, our thoughts kept returning to the countless people whose work often goes unnoticed.

Across the Treasure Valley and beyond, farmers were harvesting vegetables, ranchers were caring for livestock, orchardists were tending fruit trees, and backyard gardeners were watering tomatoes before work. Smoke may have changed the skies, but it didn't change the responsibility of caring for living things.

It reminded us how many people quietly show up every day to produce the food that fills our grocery stores, farmers markets, restaurants, and kitchen tables. Most of us rarely see that work, yet we all depend on it.

This week gave us a renewed appreciation for every farmer, rancher, gardener, beekeeper, and steward of the land who continues caring for crops and animals regardless of the conditions.

That doesn't mean we ignore our health or push through when it isn't wise. We closed Farm School because protecting children comes first. Their growing lungs deserve clean air, even if it means changing our plans.

But the farm still needed tending.

It reminded us that every meal begins with someone caring for the land long before food ever reaches our tables. This week simply made us stop and appreciate those people a little more.

Every tomato.

Every head of lettuce.

Every carton of eggs.

Every loaf of bread.

Behind each one are countless ordinary moments that most people never see—planting, watering, weeding, harvesting, repairing fences, caring for animals, and patiently trusting the seasons.

Whether it's a few tomato plants on a patio, a backyard garden, a small flock of chickens, or hundreds of acres of farmland, caring for living things teaches the same lesson: faithfulness matters more than perfect conditions.

It also teaches gratitude.

Gratitude for healthy soil.

Gratitude for rain.

Gratitude for pollinators.

Gratitude for the people who grow our food.

And yes, gratitude for something as ordinary—and as precious—as clean air.

Some of life's greatest blessings are the ones we rarely notice until they're gone.

This week, clean air was one of them.

It also reminded us of something else.

The farm felt different without children.

The vegetables kept growing, but the laughter was missing.

The garden paths were quieter.

There were no little hands eager to gather eggs.

No excited voices discovering an oversized zucchini.

No one stopping everything just to watch a butterfly land on a flower.

One of the things we love most about being a city farm is that we're part of the community we serve. While the vegetables are important, they aren't the only thing growing here.

We're also growing…

Connection.

Wonder.

Curiosity.

Confidence.

Community.

Those things flourish right alongside the gardens.

As we prepare for another week on the farm, we'll continue watching the air quality just as carefully as we watch the weather. We hope for clear skies, but if conditions don't improve, we'll make the same difficult decision again.

Because while there's no bad weather—just bad clothing—clean air is one thing children simply can't put on.

Until then, we'll keep tending the gardens, feeding the animals, harvesting vegetables, and preparing for the day children's laughter once again fills the farm.

And when the skies finally clear, we'll be ready.

Ready for muddy boots.

Ready for harvest baskets.

Ready for laughter echoing through the gardens.

Ready to welcome children back to the place where we believe they belong—outside.

If this week reminded you to appreciate the people who grow your food, consider thanking a local farmer, visiting a farmers market, supporting a nearby CSA, or even planting something of your own. Every garden—no matter how small—helps us better understand the care that goes into every meal.

If you'd like to experience life on the farm with us—whether through Farm School, our CSA, or a visit—we'd love to welcome you.

Visit www.urbangreenharvest.com to learn more, schedule a tour, or join our community.

We hope to see you on the farm soon.