What I’ve Learned About Smart City Planning That Actually Includes Nature

Living in the same house for nearly four decades gives you a front-row seat to how communities grow and change around you. What started as farmland beyond our back fence became suburban development, then strip malls, then denser housing. I’ve watched our little town transform into part of the larger metro area, mostly without much thought to how all that growth affects the people living through it.

When I first started researching modifications for my wife after her stroke, I stumbled across something called geodesign in urban planning. As an engineer, the concept made immediate sense to me – using actual geographic data, topography, soil conditions, drainage patterns, and climate information to make better decisions about where and how to build things. It’s like having detailed blueprints of the land itself before you start construction.

What struck me was how this wasn’t really new thinking. My grandfather, who farmed in northern Michigan, knew exactly which fields held water in spring, where the wind patterns were worst in winter, which slopes got the best sun exposure. He planned his crops and buildings accordingly. But somewhere along the way, we started building cities and neighborhoods as if geography didn’t matter – as if you could just level everything and impose whatever design you wanted.

I started paying more attention to our own area with this perspective. The newer subdivisions that flood every heavy rain because they were built on old wetlands. The shopping center that’s always windy and uncomfortable because it was placed right in a natural wind corridor. The housing development where nobody spends time outside because there’s no shade and no protection from weather.

Then I learned about biophilic cities – places designed to keep people connected to nature even in dense urban areas. This wasn’t just about having a few parks scattered around, but actually thinking about how natural elements could be woven throughout the entire city fabric. Green roofs, street trees, water features, native plantings, spaces where people could actually interact with living systems.

The more I read about cities trying this approach, the more it reminded me of older neighborhoods that seemed to work better for people. The downtown area where we took our kids when they were young had big shade trees along every street, a creek running through the center with walking paths, small pocket parks where you’d actually see neighbors talking to each other. People walked places. Kids played outside. It felt alive in a way that newer developments don’t.

**Understanding How Geography Shapes Livable Cities**

Geodesign essentially means letting the land tell you what makes sense to build where. Instead of fighting natural systems, you work with them. If there’s a natural drainage pattern, you design around it instead of burying it in storm sewers. If prevailing winds come from a certain direction, you use that for natural ventilation instead of fighting it with more air conditioning.

I started applying some of these ideas to our own property modifications. Instead of installing expensive drainage systems to deal with water that collected in one corner of our yard, I created a rain garden there with plants that actually like wet conditions. My wife enjoys watching it fill up during storms, and it’s become a spot where birds come to drink and bathe.

When I was designing the accessible path around our yard, I followed the natural contours instead of trying to make everything level. Used local stone that was available instead of importing materials. Placed seating areas where they’d naturally get morning sun but afternoon shade. Small decisions, but they made the space more comfortable and less expensive to create.

Cities that use geodesign principles are doing the same thing on a much larger scale. Singapore is probably the best-known example – they call it a “city in a garden” because they’ve integrated natural systems throughout the urban area. Their “supertrees” aren’t just decorative; they’re part of the water management and energy systems. Green corridors connect different parts of the city so wildlife can actually move through the urban environment.

**Bringing Nature Into City Life**

The biophilic city concept goes beyond just being efficient with natural resources. It’s about recognizing that people need contact with living systems for their physical and mental health. After spending several years watching how environmental changes affected my wife’s wellbeing, this makes complete sense to me.

The difference in her mood and energy levels between winter days spent entirely indoors versus days when she could spend even a little time in the greenhouse or outside is dramatic. The act of tending plants, watching birds, feeling natural air movement – these aren’t luxuries, they’re basic needs that most modern development ignores.

Copenhagen has done impressive work integrating these ideas into city planning. They’ve brought rivers back to the surface instead of keeping them buried in pipes. Created networks of bike paths that connect green spaces throughout the city. Incorporated community gardens, green roofs, and even habitat areas for urban wildlife.

What I find encouraging about their approach is that they retrofit existing areas instead of only applying these ideas to new development. Most of us live in places that were built without much consideration for human connection to nature, but that doesn’t mean we’re stuck with environments that work against our wellbeing.

Melbourne is another example that caught my attention because they focus heavily on native plants and supporting local wildlife within the urban environment. They use detailed mapping to understand the microclimates throughout the city – where it’s windier, where temperatures are higher or lower, which areas get more or less rainfall. Then they choose plantings and design features that work with those conditions instead of against them.

**Making Changes Where You Are**

The thing about both geodesign and biophilic principles is that they can be applied at any scale. You don’t have to wait for your city government to adopt new planning approaches. Some of the most effective changes happen when individual property owners start making better decisions about their own spaces.

Our church building committee has been working on improvements to make the fellowship hall more comfortable and accessible. Instead of just adding more artificial lighting and climate control, we’ve been looking at ways to get more natural light into the space, create views of the outdoor areas, and improve the connection between indoor and outdoor spaces for events.

It’s been slow going because committees move slowly and budgets are tight, but we’re making progress. Larger windows, better sight lines to the garden areas, some interior plants that can handle the light conditions. Small changes, but people have noticed the difference in how the space feels.

I’ve been sharing what I’ve learned with other retirees who are dealing with aging-in-place challenges. How to create accessible outdoor spaces that still feel connected to natural systems. Ways to modify homes to get better natural light without major renovations. Practical approaches to bringing more living elements indoors when mobility makes it harder to get outside regularly.

**Learning From What Works**

What gives me hope about these approaches is that they’re being tested in real places with real people, not just talked about in theory. Singapore has actual data on how their integrated natural systems affect air quality, energy use, and flooding. Copenhagen can measure changes in physical activity levels, social interaction, and mental health indicators as they’ve increased access to natural areas and bike-friendly infrastructure.

These cities are proving that you can have dense urban development that still supports both human wellbeing and ecological health. It requires thinking differently about how cities work, but it’s not impossible or even prohibitively expensive when you factor in the long-term costs of approaches that work against natural systems instead of with them.

For those of us living in smaller communities that might never have the resources for major urban redesign projects, there are still lessons to apply. Supporting natural drainage instead of fighting it. Choosing plants that work with local climate conditions instead of requiring constant irrigation and maintenance. Creating spaces where people can actually interact with natural elements instead of just looking at them through windows.

The most important insight I’ve gained from learning about geodesign and biophilic cities is that small, thoughtful changes can have significant impacts on how livable a place feels. You don’t need to demolish everything and start over. You need to pay attention to what the land and climate are telling you, and work with those patterns instead of against them.

Whether you’re modifying your own property, advocating for better community planning, or just trying to understand why some places feel more comfortable and alive than others, these concepts provide a useful framework for thinking about how our built environments can better support the health and wellbeing of everyone who lives in them.