I’ve been following this designer’s work documenting how nature-focused design transforms nursing homes, and honestly, it’s made me think completely differently about how our environments affect our wellbeing. Living in my tiny, dim studio for the past few years has given me a crash course in how much your physical space impacts your mental health – so reading about these nursing home transformations hits different.
The whole concept of biophilic design goes way beyond just adding some plants to sterile institutional spaces. This designer worked with nursing homes that were basically the healthcare equivalent of my apartment – functional but absolutely soul-crushing to actually live in. Think fluorescent lighting, no natural light, zero access to outdoor spaces, and common areas that nobody wanted to spend time in.
**Why This Actually Matters for Mental Health**
What struck me most about these projects is how similar the problems are to what young people deal with in urban housing, just with higher stakes. When you’re stuck in a depressing environment all day, it affects everything – your sleep, your mood, your willingness to be social. I experienced this firsthand during the pandemic when I was trapped in my dark studio 24/7.
The difference is, nursing home residents can’t just move to a better apartment when their lease is up. They’re dealing with these environmental factors while also managing serious health issues and limited mobility. The designer talks about working with facilities where residents were basically hiding in their rooms because the common spaces felt so unwelcoming – which honestly sounds exactly like me during my worst mental health periods.
But here’s what’s encouraging: the changes they made weren’t necessarily expensive or complicated. Starting with plants was the simplest intervention, and apparently the results were almost immediate. They installed floor-to-ceiling living walls in communal areas, and suddenly residents started gathering there to chat and interact with the greenery. It’s like when I got my first plant (Patricia) during lockdown – having something alive to care for and look at made such a difference in my daily routine.
**Creating Spaces People Actually Want to Use**
One facility had a “common area” that was always empty, which reminded me of those sad apartment building lobbies that nobody ever sits in because they feel institutional and uncomfortable. The solution involved basically turning these spaces semi-outdoor by filling them with plants, natural textures and colors, and even natural sounds like water features and birdsong.
The most successful element was creating a meeting space around a large indoor tree in a planted bed, with comfortable floor-level seating that invited people to actually sit and socialize. When the designer visited months later, residents were regularly hanging out there, using the space for actual community building.
This makes me think about my building’s rooftop garden project – how having that shared natural space completely changed how neighbors interact with each other and the building itself. Before, people mostly just hid in their apartments. Now there’s an actual sense of community because we have a space that feels welcoming and alive.
**The Natural Light Game-Changer**
The lighting transformations in these nursing homes really got to me because I’ve become obsessed with lighting solutions for my dark apartment. The designer replaced harsh fluorescent fixtures with large skylights in community areas, and residents reported feeling more awake and alert, with better sleep cycles.
They also prioritized large windows in individual rooms with views of gardens or greenery. Even when residents couldn’t physically go outside, having nature to look at helped maintain what they called “a feeling of actual living.” That phrase hit hard because I know exactly what they mean – the difference between just existing in a space versus actually feeling connected to the world outside.
I think about this every time I look out my one window at the brick wall three feet away. It’s not just about aesthetics; it’s about feeling like you’re part of something larger than your immediate four walls.
**Making Nature Accessible for Everyone**
The accessibility piece of these projects is crucial and something I don’t see talked about enough in design content. It’s not enough to create beautiful outdoor spaces if people can’t actually use them. The designer worked on redesigning garden pathways to be wide enough for wheelchairs and mobility devices, with level surfaces for people with unsteady gaits.
One story that stood out was about a resident who hadn’t been able to visit the facility’s garden because of mobility issues. After the redesign, she was finally able to enjoy being outside again and told the designer how much it meant to just sit in sunshine surrounded by plants. These aren’t luxury amenities – they’re basic quality of life considerations that should be standard, not special.
This connects to bigger issues about who gets access to good living environments. Whether you’re elderly in institutional care or young and broke in urban housing, your income and circumstances often determine whether you get to live somewhere that supports your wellbeing or somewhere that actively makes you feel worse.
**Therapeutic Gardening and Sensory Design**
The therapeutic gardening component really resonated with me because I’ve experienced firsthand how caring for plants can be grounding when everything else feels chaotic. They integrated raised plant beds that residents in wheelchairs could tend to, creating opportunities for people to work together and share stories around gardening.
The sensory garden approach for residents with dementia was particularly moving – using plants with different textures, colors and scents like lavender, rosemary, and lamb’s ear to engage the senses and sometimes unlock memories. One resident who hadn’t spoken in months started sharing vivid stories about childhood gardens after touching plants in the sensory garden.
I think about my own relationship with my plants and how they’ve become conversation starters with neighbors, ways to mark time and seasons, and honestly just reasons to get up and do something nurturing when depression makes everything else feel pointless.
**Why Staff Wellbeing Matters Too**
Something I appreciated about this designer’s approach is recognizing that biophilic design benefits staff as well as residents. Caregivers working long, stressful hours also need environments that support their mental health and reduce burnout. They created serene garden spaces for both staff and residents, acknowledging that whatever improves conditions for residents also helps the people taking care of them.
This seems obvious but is often overlooked in institutional design. Just like how my building’s rooftop garden benefits all residents, not just the people who actively maintain it, creating better environments has ripple effects throughout the whole community.
**What This Means for How We Think About Care**
Reading about these transformations made me realize how much our physical environments reflect our values about who deserves to live in spaces that support flourishing versus just survival. Most nursing homes, like most affordable housing, are designed to be functional and cost-effective rather than places where people can actually thrive.
But these biophilic design interventions show that relatively simple changes – better lighting, accessible outdoor spaces, plants, natural materials and sounds – can dramatically improve quality of life. It’s not about creating luxury spaces; it’s about acknowledging that everyone deserves to live somewhere that feels alive and connected to the natural world.
The designer puts it perfectly: biophilic design isn’t just window dressing or aesthetic choices. It’s about creating environments that actively promote health and wellbeing, where quality of life is linked to what happens within and around these spaces.
As someone who’s learned to hack a terrible apartment into something more livable using similar principles – strategic lighting, lots of plants, access to outdoor space, natural materials where possible – I can confirm that these changes genuinely matter for daily mental health and overall life satisfaction. The fact that we don’t automatically design all living spaces this way feels like a policy failure more than a resource issue.
These nursing home transformations give me hope that we can rethink how we design spaces for vulnerable populations, whether that’s elderly residents in care facilities or young people in affordable urban housing. Everyone deserves to live somewhere that supports their humanity rather than just warehousing their bodies.
Robert is a retired engineer in Michigan who’s spent the past few years adapting his longtime home for accessibility and wellbeing. He writes about practical, DIY ways to make homes more comfortable and life-affirming as we age — from raised-bed gardens to better natural light.
