his underprivileged patients. Many were suffering from obesity,
diabetes, depression, anxiety and asthma.
“This is a no-brainer,” he said. “Parks are free. They are an
incredible resource not being used. We just need to connect people to
them.”
Health care is only a piece of the solution. The access-to-nature
movement also ideally needs to grow out of schools, churches,
workspaces, neighborhood associations and cities as a whole. And it
won’t happen unless we acknowledge more consciously our need for
nature. As I’ve learned through the course of reporting this book, we
profoundly undervalue that need. You can see it when we cut recess
and outdoor play for kids, when we design buildings and
neighborhoods that cut off light, space and fresh air, when we stay
inside instead of making the effort to get out. The wealthier you are,
the more likely you are to satisfy your nature neurons, but it’s often a
subconscious fulfillment met by exclusive neighborhoods and
restorative vacations. Until we all fully acknowledge the need for
nature that’s driving some of our behavior, we won’t work to make it
available for everyone.
I’m heartened by the small bursts of activism taking place in
communities throughout the country, whether through fun and
innovative groups like Outdoor Afro, GirlTrek, CityKids, Nature
Bridge, the Children & Nature Network and dozens of others.
Adventure playgrounds—complete with mud puddles and you-build-it
twiggy forts are springing up in places like Houston, Texas, and
Governors Island, New York. So-called “tactical urbanists” are
installing pop-up parks and guerilla gardens on city streets.
Increasingly, organizations, public agencies and institutions are
working hard to get people, including me, into the thin ribbons of
blue-green that still weave through our urban habitats. It’s no longer
enough to save wild places from people—now groups are saving them
for people. The Nature Conservancy, known for preserving important