I keep coming back to something that happened when I visited the Amazon Spheres in Seattle with my kids last year. We were there for vacation, and I figured I’d check out this biophilic workspace I’d been reading about online. My daughter was being her typical fidgety self, and my son was overstimulated from the city – you know how it is when you take kids to new environments.
But then something interesting happened. We’re walking through these massive glass domes filled with thousands of plants, and both kids just… settled. My daughter stopped bouncing around and started actually looking at things. My son, who’d been asking “when can we leave?” every five minutes, suddenly wanted to touch the bark on this enormous tree. I watched an Amazon employee do the same thing during a phone call – just unconsciously reaching out to touch a plant while talking, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
That’s when it clicked for me. This wasn’t just about making a pretty office space. This was about creating an environment where people – kids, adults, everyone – could connect with nature in ways they didn’t even realize they needed.
I’ve been documenting spaces like this ever since I started this whole journey of trying to create better environments for my family. Some are massive projects with huge budgets, others are simple changes that any parent could implement. What they all have in common is this: they actually improve how people function, and you can measure the difference.
Take the Maggie’s Centre in Oldham, England. This is a cancer care facility that looks like it’s built from stacked logs – sounds weird, but it works. The whole building uses untreated timber that weathers naturally over time, so it’s always changing with the seasons. Inside, you get that same wood throughout the space, so there’s this continuity between being outside and inside that most buildings don’t have.
I read about a study they did tracking patient anxiety levels. Patients spending time in the naturally-lit timber areas had 31% lower anxiety scores compared to conventional clinical spaces. That’s not feel-good fluff – that’s measurable health improvement. One patient mentioned how touching the wooden handrails reminded her of her grandfather’s workshop, making her feel “held” by the space during treatment.
This is exactly what I’ve been seeing with my kids. They respond differently to natural materials and natural light. My son with ADHD is noticeably calmer in spaces with wood and plants versus all-artificial environments. It’s not magic – it’s just working with human biology instead of against it.
Then there’s Via 57 West in New York – this pyramid-shaped apartment building with planted terraces built right into the structure. I was reading about it because I’m always looking for ideas about how to create outdoor space when you don’t have a traditional yard. These residents have access to green spaces at multiple levels throughout the building, not just on the ground floor or roof.
What’s fascinating is how residents use these spaces. The building surveys show people rank the planted terraces as their favorite amenity – higher than the gym, higher than the rooftop views, higher than everything else. They use them year-round, even in New York winters, because having access to plants and sky somehow makes small apartments feel less claustrophobic.
This resonates with me because we’ve seen similar things with our own small changes at home. When I built those window seats that let the kids sit right by the windows, they started choosing those spots for homework and reading even when other furniture was available. When we created the little garden areas in the backyard, they began spending hours outside that they never spent on the plain lawn we used to have.
Sometimes the most impressive results come from the smallest projects. The Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia renovated a waiting area for about $15,000 – less than what some people spend on kitchen appliances. They added water features, living moss walls, and air-purifying plants. Nothing elaborate, just thoughtful plant selection and proper lighting so everything could thrive indoors.
The unexpected result? Families started staying in the waiting area instead of wandering off to other parts of the hospital. Kids began asking to water plants and teaching each other about plant care. The space became this informal support community for families going through similar challenges. They measured a 28% reduction in wait-time anxiety compared to conventional waiting areas.
This gives me hope for changes we can all make. You don’t need tens of thousands of dollars or a complete renovation. You need to understand what humans – especially kids – respond to, and then create opportunities for those connections.
The Barbican Conservatory in London has been doing this since 1982. It’s this tropical greenhouse built right into a residential complex, which sounds like it should be a maintenance nightmare. But it’s become this incredible community space that adapts to how people actually use it.
Residents use it for morning walks, informal meetings, quiet reading time. The plants create natural sound masking, the humidity helps during dry winters, and the changing light throughout the day gives people options for different activities. People unconsciously adjust their routines around the natural cycles in the space – showing up earlier when morning light hits differently, avoiding certain areas during maintenance seasons when plants are dormant.
This is what I’m trying to create in smaller ways at home. Spaces that change over time, that respond to seasons and light cycles, that give my kids opportunities to interact with living systems without it feeling forced or educational.
The lesson I keep learning from these successful projects is that biophilic design isn’t about adding plants to make things look pretty. It’s about creating environments that acknowledge we’re biological creatures who need connections to natural processes. Sometimes that means spectacular installations like the Amazon Spheres. Sometimes it’s as simple as choosing materials that age naturally or positioning furniture to take advantage of natural light.
What works – whether it’s a massive corporate project or changes I make in my kids’ bedrooms – is designing spaces that don’t just look natural, but behave naturally. They evolve over time, they respond to daily and seasonal rhythms, and they create opportunities for humans to interact with living systems in ways that feel instinctive.
That’s the difference between decoration and design that actually improves how families function. And as a parent, that’s what I’m always looking for – changes that make a measurable difference in how my kids sleep, focus, and feel at home.
David is a dad of two who started caring about design after realizing how much their home environment affected his kids’ moods and sleep. He writes about family-friendly, budget-friendly ways to bring natural light, plants, and outdoor play back into everyday life.
