What I’ve Learned About Bringing Nature Indoors After Thirty-Eight Years in the Same House

When I first heard the term “biophilic design” about five years ago, I’ll admit I thought it sounded like another fancy architectural trend that would eventually fade away. But after spending the better part of a decade modifying our house for my wife’s needs following her stroke, I’ve come to understand that what they’re calling biophilic design is really just common sense that we somehow forgot along the way.

Back when my wife and I bought this house in 1987, nobody was talking about “connecting with nature” through architecture. Houses were built to keep the weather out and the climate-controlled air in. Windows were sealed tight, rooms were compartmentalized, and if you wanted nature, you went outside. The idea that your indoor environment could actively support your health and well-being wasn’t really on anyone’s radar.

But here’s what I’ve learned through trial and error over the past several years: the way a space is designed absolutely affects how you feel and function in it, especially as you age. And most of the modifications I’ve made to help my wife – and myself – are things that architects are now calling biophilic design principles.

**How We Got So Far from Nature Indoors**

Looking back on the houses I’ve lived in over seven decades, I can see how we gradually sealed ourselves off from the natural world. My grandparents’ farmhouse had big windows that actually opened, rooms that flowed into each other, and a wraparound porch where the family spent summer evenings. You could hear birds, feel breezes, watch weather move across the sky.

By the time we bought our house in the ’80s, everything was different. Central air conditioning meant windows stayed closed from May through September. Artificial lighting was cheap and convenient, so we didn’t worry much about natural light. The goal was to create controlled, predictable indoor environments that were completely separate from whatever was happening outside.

I didn’t question this at the time – it seemed like progress. Why deal with insects and humidity and temperature fluctuations when you could have perfectly controlled indoor conditions? But I’ve come to realize we threw out a lot of good things along with the inconveniences.

Traditional architecture, especially the institutional buildings I’ve been in lately – hospitals, office buildings, senior centers – often feels completely disconnected from anything natural. Fluorescent lighting, windowless rooms, sealed air systems. These places might be technically functional, but they’re not places where humans naturally thrive.

What they’re now calling biophilic design is really about bringing back some of that connection our great-grandparents took for granted. Natural light, fresh air, views of plants and sky, materials that feel good to touch. Simple things, but apparently we needed a fancy name and research studies to remember why they matter.

**What I’ve Learned from Making Changes**

The modifications I’ve made to our house over the past eight years weren’t planned as “biophilic design” – I was just trying to make life easier and more pleasant for my wife. But looking at it now, most of what I did fits exactly with what the experts recommend.

Maximizing natural light was one of the first big improvements. I enlarged several windows, replaced heavy drapes with light-filtering shades, and even installed a couple of skylights in darker areas of the house. The difference in my wife’s mood during Michigan’s gray winters has been dramatic. She sleeps better, complains less about pain, and seems more alert during the day.

I also created what the books would call “direct connections to nature” – though I just thought of it as making the outdoors more accessible. Built raised garden beds at wheelchair height, created a smooth path around the yard, added a small greenhouse where my wife can tend plants year-round. These weren’t expensive renovations, just practical modifications that let her continue doing something she’d always loved.

The indoor plants were my wife’s idea originally, but I’ve noticed they make the house feel more alive. We’ve got pothos on the kitchen windowsill, a large peace lily in the living room, herbs growing under LED lights in the basement during winter. Nothing fancy, but these living things change the character of indoor spaces in ways I hadn’t expected.

Even the materials matter more than I realized. When we updated the bathroom for accessibility, I used natural stone tile instead of vinyl. Costs a bit more, but it feels warmer underfoot and just seems more pleasant to be around. Same with the wood trim I’ve been refinishing – there’s something about natural materials that artificial ones don’t replicate.

**The Health Connection**

The research I’ve been reading about biophilic design and aging makes a lot of sense when I look at what’s happened in our house. Natural light helps regulate sleep cycles, which is crucial for older adults. Views of nature reduce stress and can even help with pain management. Having plants to care for provides purpose and gentle physical activity.

But it’s not just about individual elements – it’s how everything works together. The combination of better natural lighting, accessible outdoor space, and living plants has created an environment that supports both physical and mental health in ways I didn’t anticipate.

I’ve seen similar benefits when I’ve helped modify spaces at our church and the local senior center. Adding plants, improving natural light, creating views of the outdoors – small changes that make these institutional spaces feel more welcoming and less depressing. People respond to environments that feel alive rather than sterile.

**Learning from Impressive Examples**

I’ve read about some remarkable buildings that take biophilic design to another level. Singapore’s Gardens by the Bay, with those enormous “supertrees” that are part architecture, part garden. New York’s Via 57 West residential building, which incorporates courtyards and green spaces right into the structure.

These aren’t projects a regular homeowner could replicate, but they show what’s possible when you design buildings to work with natural systems instead of against them. Green roofs that manage stormwater and provide insulation. Walls that literally breathe, adjusting ventilation based on conditions. Water features that provide cooling and humidity control while creating pleasant sounds.

I’m particularly interested in the buildings that use natural ventilation systems – designing airflow patterns that reduce the need for artificial climate control. This makes sense from both an environmental and cost perspective, especially for those of us on fixed incomes.

**Practical Applications for Regular Folks**

Most of us aren’t building new houses or renovating entire buildings. But there are practical ways to incorporate biophilic principles into existing homes, especially as we age and need environments that support rather than hinder our changing abilities.

Start with natural light. It’s often the single most impactful change you can make. Enlarge windows if possible, replace heavy window treatments with lighter ones, use mirrors to bounce light into darker areas. If major window modifications aren’t feasible, even changing to full-spectrum LED bulbs can help.

Bring in living elements gradually. A few houseplants, a small herb garden on a sunny windowsill, bird feeders outside windows where you spend time. You don’t need a greenhouse – though I’ll tell you, building that small kit greenhouse has been one of my better projects.

Create connections to outdoor spaces. This might mean building a ramp for accessibility, adding seating areas where you can comfortably spend time outside, or simply improving views from indoor spaces to your yard or garden.

Pay attention to materials and textures. When you’re replacing worn-out finishes anyway, consider natural materials where the budget allows. Wood, stone, and natural fibers feel different than synthetic alternatives and seem to age better too.

**Looking Ahead**

The future of biophilic design sounds fascinating, though some of it seems pretty high-tech for my taste. Buildings that automatically adjust lighting and ventilation based on natural rhythms. Walls that change properties based on weather conditions. Sensors that optimize indoor environments for individual occupants.

I’m more interested in the practical applications – how these principles can be used to make existing buildings work better for aging populations. Better access to nature and natural light in senior housing. Therapeutic gardens in healthcare facilities. Office buildings that don’t make people feel trapped and disconnected.

There’s also the question of making these improvements affordable and accessible. Most of the impressive biophilic buildings I read about are expensive, high-end projects. But the basic principles – natural light, living plants, connections to outdoor spaces – shouldn’t be luxuries available only to wealthy people.

**Why This Matters**

After living in the same house for thirty-eight years and making these modifications over the past decade, I’m convinced that biophilic design isn’t just an architectural trend – it’s about creating environments where people can actually thrive, especially as they age.

We spent decades building houses and buildings that prioritized efficiency and control over human well-being. Now we’re trying to figure out how to bring back the connections to nature that previous generations took for granted. It’s not just about aesthetics – it’s about creating spaces that support physical health, mental well-being, and quality of life.

The changes I’ve made to our house have genuinely improved both my wife’s and my daily experience of living here. Better sleep, improved mood, continued connection to gardening and outdoor activities despite mobility challenges. These aren’t small things when you’re dealing with the realities of aging.

If you’re thinking about modifications to help with aging in place, or if you’re helping aging parents adapt their homes, consider how small changes can create better connections to natural light, outdoor spaces, and living elements. You don’t need to become an expert in biophilic design – just pay attention to what makes spaces feel alive and supportive rather than sterile and isolating.

After all these years of home repairs and modifications, I’ve learned that the goal isn’t just to maintain a house – it’s to create an environment that helps you maintain your health, independence, and connection to the world around you. That’s something worth working toward, one practical improvement at a time.