Cultivating Urban Forests

Green Roof Bike shed in Barking Riverside)

I think it’s easy to feel claustrophobic in London, or in many big cities for that matter. Which is ironic really: how can a city that’s so big feel so small? I know I’m not alone when I say that, whenever I start to get this feeling, I like to find a pocket of nature, usually a park or a waterbody of some sort, to clear my mind. But we don’t always have the time in the day to visit these spaces, especially as the days get shorter, the weather gets colder, and our lives get busier over the autumn and winter months.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the potential for micro pockets of wildlife across London that provide more accessible, everyday interactions with nature, and how we might integrate wildlife into our urban fabric.

But what does this look like on a day-to-day basis? And how could it come to be?

I was able to dive into these questions more during our recent trainee field trips with Global Generation. As part of the Garden traineeship, the trainee team had the chance to visit two garden sites: John Little’s wildlife garden in Essex (along with his temporary site in Barking Riverside) and Martin Crawford’s forest garden in Totnes, Devon. Each site was established about 30 years ago so it was fascinating to see how their different approaches and geographical contexts created vastly different, yet equally effective, outcomes.

John Little’s brownfield garden, Horndon-on-the-Hill, Essex © John Little

At John Little’s sites, there were numerous examples of infrastructure built with the purpose of fostering biodiversity. From sand mounds sprouting herbs and attracting bees, to gabion mosaic planters and ponds, he was able to maximise his objective in such a small space and create a feeling of abundance. One of the best examples was his bike shelters, which included a bug hotel and a wildflower meadow on the green roof.

The ability to stack multiple functions into his designs provided wonderful examples of urban wilderness, debunking the idea that true nature can only be found in ‘untouched’ or ‘unmanaged’ environments. Watching biodiversity emerge in unsuspecting environments feels almost magical in a city like London, and Little’s sites proved that it is actually relatively easy to do.

Martin Crawford’s forest garden was a far stretch from Essex or Barking Riverside, located on a rural site in Devon. The garden was meticulously planned, with each plant selected intentionally for some property that supported the ecosystem of people, plants, and animals that utilised the garden. What struck me was the number of plants he chose that you also see dotted about London every day in public planters or as street trees, yet I had no idea of their other qualities.

For example, Japanese dogwood, typically grown ornamentally, actually produces a tasty fruit a bit like an apricot. White mulberry trees, typically known for their fruit which you can find across multiple public parks in London, have leaves with the highest concentration of protein on the planet. And Begonia, often planted ornamentally as evergreen ground cover, actually has leaves that ferment naturally and, when dried, can be used as tea similar to Earl Grey. 

Autumn Olive berries, so tasty!

It got me thinking about the opportunities we have to interact with the city as if it were a food forest, stopping to graze berries from trees along the street or harvesting herbs and spices from just outside our doorsteps. If we start to apply that ‘forest garden’ mindset to London, think of all the wonderful possibilities for interacting with, and learning more about, nature on a day-to-day basis.

I think applying the techniques of both Crawford and Little to our public spaces could open up the city and make it feel less intense and claustrophobic. Reducing the separation between ‘urban’ and ‘nature’ by designing spaces that attract more wildlife, add colour, and provide opportunities to experience nature more casually would be a real game changer. And it isn’t too complicated—we just need a little more imagination in how we design our city. It starts with reimagining our everyday spaces, but it could grow into a movement where every street, roof, and corner of London nurtures life.

Perhaps then, when the city feels overwhelming, we wouldn’t need to escape far at all, because pockets of nature would be waiting right outside our door.

---

Notes from the Garden