What I’ve Learned About Sound in Biophilic Design – Beyond Just Plants and Natural Light

When most people think about biophilic design – and I include myself when I first started reading about this stuff eight years ago – we picture houseplants, big windows, maybe some natural wood finishes. Visual elements that bring the outdoors in. But there’s a whole other dimension I’ve been experimenting with lately that’s made a bigger difference than I expected: sound.

It started when I was modifying our house for my wife’s mobility issues. I’d enlarged windows, brought in more plants, created that accessible raised garden I’ve written about before. All good changes that helped her mood and pain levels. But I kept noticing that some of her best days were when she could sit by the open window in spring and fall, listening to the birds in our old maple tree or the small water feature I’d built near her garden area.

That got me thinking about something I’d read in one of those biophilic design articles our daughter had sent me years ago. The piece mentioned something called “biophonic elements” – basically, the sounds that living things make in nature. Birds, water, wind through leaves, that kind of thing. The idea was that these natural sounds affect us just as much as visual elements do, maybe more.

Now, I’m not talking about just playing nature sounds through speakers, though I’ve tried that too with mixed results. I mean actually incorporating real sound sources into your living space where possible, and being thoughtful about artificial ones where it’s not.

The water feature was my first real success with this. I’d built it primarily so my wife could tend plants at wheelchair height, but I positioned it so water would flow over some rocks and create a gentle trickling sound. Nothing fancy – just a small recirculating pump and some stones I arranged by trial and error until the sound was right. Took me three tries to get it positioned so it was audible from her chair but not so loud it interfered with conversation or television.

The difference was immediate. She spent more time out there, said it helped her focus when she was transplanting seedlings or just sitting and thinking. I noticed I was drawn to that area too when I was doing yard work or reading outside. There’s something about the sound of moving water that just settles your mind.

Encouraged by that success, I started paying more attention to the acoustic environment around our house. We’ve got mature trees that attract quite a few bird species, but I realized our old storm windows were blocking most of those sounds even when the weather was nice. Started opening windows more strategically during comfortable months, positioning chairs where you could hear the outdoor sounds best.

I also experimented with recorded natural sounds during Michigan’s long winters when everything’s sealed up tight. This was trickier than I expected. The first system I tried was some kind of white noise machine with nature settings, but it sounded artificial and got annoying fast. The endless loop was too obvious – you’d hear the same bird call sequence every few minutes.

Did some research and found better quality recordings, longer loops, sounds recorded in environments similar to our region. Made a difference, but you still had to be careful about volume and timing. What sounded soothing at 2 PM could be irritating at 9 PM when you’re trying to wind down. And my wife’s hearing is more sensitive than mine, so I had to adjust everything based on her comfort level.

The real breakthrough came when I was helping our church improve their fellowship hall. They’d asked me to work on better lighting and accessibility, but I noticed the space had terrible acoustics – hard surfaces everywhere, conversations echoed, folding chairs scraped on linoleum. Very institutional and unwelcoming.

We couldn’t afford major renovations, but I suggested adding some sound-absorbing elements that could also bring in biophilic design principles. Ended up installing some hanging planters with trailing plants that helped with both acoustics and visual appeal. Also convinced them to try a small tabletop fountain in the corner where people gathered for coffee after services.

The fountain was controversial at first – some folks thought it was too fancy or worried about maintenance. But it solved multiple problems. Masked the harsh echoes and HVAC noise, gave people something pleasant to focus on, and created a more welcoming atmosphere overall. Now people linger longer after services, conversation flows better, and several members have told me the space feels more peaceful.

These experiences taught me that biophilic design isn’t just about what you see – it’s about creating environments that engage multiple senses the way natural settings do. A forest doesn’t just look like trees; it sounds like wind and birds and rustling leaves. A meadow isn’t just flowers and grass; it sounds like insects and distant water and wind.

Our built environments, especially as we’ve made them more energy-efficient and sealed off from outside conditions, have gotten acoustically sterile. Air conditioning hums, fluorescent lights buzz, traffic noise intrudes, but we’ve lost most of the subtle natural sounds that humans evolved with over thousands of years.

I’m not suggesting everyone needs to install fountains or play bird sounds all day. But paying attention to the acoustic environment is part of creating healthier, more comfortable spaces. Sometimes it’s as simple as opening a window when weather permits, or choosing a fan that moves air quietly instead of one that hums. Sometimes it’s adding elements that create pleasant sounds – wind chimes that aren’t too clanky, plants that rustle gently in air currents, water features scaled appropriately for the space.

The key thing I’ve learned is that these sound elements need to feel natural and not overwhelming. The goal isn’t to simulate being in the wilderness; it’s to create spaces that feel more alive and less artificial than typical indoor environments.

I’ve also run into some challenges and mistakes along the way. That fancy indoor fountain I mentioned before didn’t just leak and damage the floor – it was also too loud for the space and had an annoying gurgling sound that my wife said made her feel like she needed to use the bathroom. Lesson learned about testing things thoroughly before permanent installation.

The automated window system I tried to set up would have been great for managing natural ventilation and outdoor sounds, but it was too complicated and unreliable. Sometimes the simple solutions work better than the high-tech ones.

Currently, I’m working on winterizing our greenhouse better, and I’m thinking about adding some wind chimes designed to work with the ventilation system – gentle sounds that would indicate air movement and add some acoustic interest during the quiet winter months when my wife spends time in there with her plants.

I’m also helping a friend modify his workshop space. He’s dealing with hearing loss from years of power tool use, but he still wants his workspace to feel connected to the outdoors. We’re experimenting with better natural lighting and some plants, but also looking at ways to incorporate subtle sound elements that work with his hearing aids rather than against them.

What interests me most about this whole area is how much it’s about paying attention to details that most people don’t consciously notice. You walk into a space and it feels either comfortable or uncomfortable, calming or agitating, alive or sterile. Often those feelings are influenced by subtle acoustic factors you’re not even aware of.

The more I’ve learned about biophilic design, the more I appreciate that it’s really about creating environments that work with human nature instead of against it. We evolved in settings full of natural sounds, natural light patterns, growing things, fresh air movement. Modern buildings often cut us off from all of that in the name of efficiency or climate control.

But you can bring back some of those natural elements without sacrificing comfort or practicality. It just takes some thought and experimentation to figure out what works in your particular space and situation.

For anyone interested in trying this, I’d suggest starting small and simple. Pay attention to the existing sounds in your space – which ones are pleasant, which ones are annoying, what’s missing that might make the environment more comfortable. Then look for small changes that might help – better window placement for natural sounds, a small water feature, plants that move gently in air currents.

Don’t try to overhaul everything at once, and be prepared to adjust things based on how they actually work in practice. What sounds good in theory doesn’t always work in your real living situation.

But when you get it right, when you create a space that sounds as good as it looks and feels connected to the natural world even when you’re indoors – it makes a difference you can feel every day.