There’s something exceptional, rare even, about entering a yard that pulses not only with life but with the very essence of nature itself—fluctuating, variable, moment-to-moment, just like the natural world beyond its borders. Such a place isn’t solely dependent upon native plants, but it sure helps when a yard features a model assembly of plant communities that are native to the local ecosystem. It’s not also solely reliant upon the presence of topographical variety, but a little elevation gain certainly goes a long way in creating a yard with spaces that feel more like the different kinds of spaces one encounters on hiking trails or within woodlands.
One of the aspects I admire most about biophilic gardens is the way they invite interaction with the natural world—especially for children and those still young at heart. One friend has a garden that has become a source of personal inspiration for me. She took her small, suburban yard and transformed it into a biophilic retreat with a handful of straightforward yet striking changes. Most notably, she populated her yard with native plants that attract local wildlife. One hot afternoon, I sat in her backyard watching a monarch land on a milkweed plant and thinking about how this retreat conditioned my friend’s neighbors to grow more comfortable with the intimate and peaceful interaction of wild species with their everyday human lives. The experience fortified my already enthusiastic notion that biophilic design is a profoundly peaceful way to reimagine human habitats as healthy, wildlife-friendly spaces.
In my opinion, one of the simplest ways to begin creating a biophilic yard is by planting native species. These plants are suited to our area’s climate and soil and thusdon’t demand the same amount of water, fertilizer, or fretting that many cherished, non-native plants do. They not only create marvelous habitat for our local wildlife but also serve as stunning models of the kinds of biophilic designs that any yard could feature. I’ve had clients who balked at the idea of planting native species, preferring to look for more exotic, ornamental yard plants. But after witnessing the profound transformations that their yards underwent—both in terms of the myriad creatures that returned to using their yards and in the sheer beauty of the kinds of plant communities that became part of their landscape—they became true converts.
Take my own yard, for example. It’s a hodgepodge of native and drought-tolerant plants, a veritable cornucopia of grasses, wildflowers, and shrubs. Edibles are planted among them—sorry, that should read “yvies”—in the hillside garden sort of way: herbs, vegetables, and fruit, all with their unique and delightful interactions and interactions with the déclassé P. hummer. There’s nothing like stepping outside at 8 a.m. after a vigorous spin around the 42nd Street Bioshelter to pick a couple of leaves of mint for your tea. Or going up to the haphazardly nestled “food forest” to get tomatoes and basil for dinner.
Another crucial part of biophilic yard design is water. One of the most pleasurable and relaxing features I have in my yard is a small water element. This isn’t a big, grand fountain—far from it—but a simple bubbler that outputs a decent amount of water. The sound the water makes is pleasant, but what’s interesting is that it isn’t really a naturally occurring sound. A lot of the water sounds that we hear in nature are the sounds of either water tumbling over or through rocks or of water being poured out into a natural basin. Of course, many birds enjoy these same types of water features, and a bubbler that’s kind of off to the side in my yard has attracted quite a number of avian visitors.
A biophilic yard is one that changes with the seasons. There’s seldom any snow to hold in a biophilic yard during the winter months, but the frost flowers (above) can be a wonderful sight in January. This biophilic yard offers plants and a dynamic arrangement that welcomes both residents and transients. The bumblebees house-hunting in a clump of monarda didn’t make it onto my powerful binoscope—a noteworthy optical achievement! It’s hard to believe that a few years ago, this monarda was a forlorn single plant, and now it’s a confident colony.
Continuing my exploration of the biophilic yard design, I have come to realize that one of its most attractive characteristics is how it fosters well-being for people. Being in nature diminishes stress, lowers blood pressure, and lifts the spirits—all things that are usually poignant when stepping into an inviting outdoor space. It feels good and right to be enveloped in plants, with the natural world present through textures and sounds. One of the best ways for me to relax and recharge after a taxing day is to sit in a particular corner of my yard, shaded by a tree, where I can hear the many birds that have made my neighborhood their home.
Transforming a yard into a biophilic space requires more than just the sowing of oaks and hollies; it necessitates an artful outdoor design that entices humans to linger. A project I do in California that exemplifies this principle is a backyard overhaul for a family that hardly ever touched its yard. The humans wanted the yard they had ignored to become a wandering space where they could gather, relax, and entertain. So instead of decking or patioing the space, we created “rooms” that dawdle and sidle to the edges of the yard, each with its own character, yet all of the “rooms” are linked by paths that curve and meander.
The key gathering spot had a fire pit surrounded by seats made from salvaged wood. These seats were nestled beneath a lovely overhead structure that was draped in flowering vines. Just beyond the fire pit area was the “nocturnal nook,” which featured a hammock strung between two trees. This piece of calm was a perfect spot for a book or a shut-eye. The previous owners have told me they now consider their yard to be the best “room.”
One unexpectedly delightful aspect of this yard is the wildflower meadow. Rather than a traditional lawn, the family opted for a more natural-feeling, pollinator-supporting diverse plant community. Meadows are beautiful, whether you enjoy their full color or the calming tones of their grasses in the wind. They are interesting habitats, full of a variety of life, some of which I saw on an early visit. In my memory, I still see the plants in their moment of full glory. A space for any kind of yard is a space for humans and a peculiar series of sounds. It’s also a space for a variety of living things and a series of peculiar sounds that are different from the sounds you might think of when imagining the “natural” sounds of a neighborhood next to another neighborhood.
One of the keys to a successful biophilic yard is biodiversity. That means planting a variety of species—trees, shrubs, flowers, and ground covers—each chosen for its ability to support different kinds of wildlife. The plants include some that I wouldn’t have picked long ago—like a copse of big, bold sunflowers that rise up behind the perennials near the front door. But the variety of plants makes for an interesting space to walk through and offers plenty of visual appeal, not only to us but also to all sorts of birds, bees, butterflies, and critters. Let’s chance upon some of them and see what they’re doing in there.
In my own yard, I have taken it upon myself to ensure that a variety of plant species, particularly those that either provide food or shelter for wildlife, are present. I have installed berry bushes that attract summer birds, as well as flowering plants that—along with my vegetable garden—have drawn plenty of interesting insect life. I could have made my yard even more wildlife-friendly by including a bat house, but I was worried that a bat house would be too effective. Still, I consider the modest variety of winged mammals that come and go in my yard to be a good sign. Of course, it’s harbored plenty of different kinds of birds—at least 22 kinds of birds that I’ve positively identified in about three years—which is somehow even more satisfying since I don’t think I’ve included a single plant specifically for that purpose.
I am truly thrilled by the possibility of biophilic yards and their fostering of biodiversity and human connection. Ever since outdoor spaces have existed, people have used them for coming together—celebrating, reflecting, or just enjoying the fresh air. A well-designed biophilic yard enhances these experiences and creates a soul-nourishing sense of place. I have worked with clients who, after the transformation of their yards, enjoyed a newfound closeness with those in their homes, relishing shared meals, conversations, and moments of privacy in the green that is their backyard. The yard becomes part of the home, where each person can live both “indoor” and “outdoor” lives.
A specific project comes to mind that involved creating an outdoor space for a couple who enjoyed hosting dinner parties but felt their backyard lacked pizzazz. They wanted more than just the typical patio-and-grill setup—they envisioned something that would foster conversation and relaxation and, they hoped, a deeper connection with nature. We ended up designing a biophilic space in their yard, with a dining area artfully situated near a waterfall and a small, peaceful pond. Low-maintenance native plants surround the dining space, and a sweet-smelling jasmine vine almost covers the pergola above the dining table.
The thing I loved most about this project was that the space felt vibrant, even when it wasn’t active. The couple shared that their yard had transformed into a tranquil retreat. They now often spent time outside, long after friends had departed, listening to the sounds of the water, watching the moonlight dance on the pond, and feeling a sense of serenity—they had never experienced such a thing in the yard before. The biophilic components not only heightened their just-before-dark pool party but also deepened the couple’s personal connection to the space.
Creating a night time atmosphere is just as important as the daylight one, and that requires some thought about everything from the soft ambient glow of outdoor and landscape lighting fixtures to the types and colors of light those fixtures emit. I know that I personally find spaces lit with warm colors to feel far more intimate and inviting than spaces filled only with harsh white light or cooler colors. In the atmosphere of that warm glow, you can see and appreciate the natural elements of a yard that much better, just as you can see and appreciate them during the day, with nothing between your eyes and the landscape but a light breeze.
Biophilic yards often incorporate natural materials. Stone, wood, and gravel not only fit well into the landscape, but they also offer a connection to nature. (We might also say that they are “natures” seats, paths, and structures.) In one project, I created a series of stone steps leading through a wooded area of the yard to help the homeowners explore their space more mindfully. Moving through the yard felt more like hiking through a forest, even though it was in the middle of a suburban neighborhood. I always strive to make the space and the experience of moving through it equal priorities in biophilic design.
In my yard, I’ve created an inviting mix of natural materials that seems to beckon one’s hands and feet. I have a gravel path that winds through the yard, leading to a small wooden bench under a couple of trees. There’s something very solid and anchoring about walking along this path, feeling the crunch of gravel underfoot, and sitting on the rough texture of the bench’s wooden surface. It’s a reminder that a yard should engage more than just the eyes—one should be free to interact with all the five senses (and sometimes even the sixth) in a biophilic manner.
The future of biophilic yard design delights me. The reason is simple: There’s a burgeoning interest in sustainability. Not just among devotees of the latest conservation fad, but in the mainstream of American life. People are earnest, they’re thoughtful, and they’re increasingly determined to make a difference.
What does this mean for biophilic landscape design? If the current moment has a herald, it might be the rain garden—part bioswale, part trick, part practical joke that nature plays on you if you listen to the earth’s murmurs and the water’s whispers.
In the final analysis, a biophilic yard is about way more than good looks (“curb appeal”?). It is a statement—that along with making a living in this world (an even more recent necessity)—yard owners have a purpose that supports all kinds of life. Biophilic living might be seen as our stubborn refusal to be cut off from a natural world that still seems so distant for many of us (especially in urban areas). Biophilic yards might better the kind of biodiversity that is badly needed now. My hope is that those of us with yards might be seen (and see ourselves) as benefiting from the kind of rule-breaking authority that can get us (and nature) into the habit of living well together.
