Choosing the Leafiest View: Nature and Healing

Hi I’m Sammy,

Your Good Farm in-house nutritionist. Here to bring you essential information on nutrition, diet and permaculture gardening - in a bite size, easy to understand, science-backed way.

Over the past twenty-five days, I have been somewhat of a permanent resident at my local hospital, moving between wards, from birthing to maternity and back again, managing placenta previa. Each room has differed, not just in size, but in outlook. When it became clear I would be here for some time, I was offered the chance to move rooms. I walked the ward slowly, pausing at each doorway, looking not at the size of the room or equipment, but out through the windows. In the end, I chose the room with the largest windows and the leafiest view. Beyond the car park stand rows of Sydney Red Gums (Angophora costata) and Grey Gums (Eucalyptus punctata) varied in age and height, their canopies shifting in the wind. 

Throughout my life, whenever I have felt emotionally challenged or moved through periods of grief, I have instinctively turned to nature, seeking it as both refuge and balm. Over time, I have also searched for evidence to support what I know intuitively, to understand just how much green spaces offer, and how differently they work compared to other therapeutic forms. Unlike talk therapy, movement, or creative practices, nature does not ask anything of you. It steadies the nervous system quietly, offering containment, perspective and continuity at a time when the body and mind may feel unsettled. In choosing this room, I was choosing a form of care I know how to receive. 

Psychiatrist and psychotherapist Sue Stuart-Smith explores this in The Well Gardened Mind, where she describes our deep psychological relationship with the natural world. She draws on a body of research that shows how profoundly our surroundings shape recovery, often in ways we barely register. She explains landmark hospital studies in which patients recovering from surgery healed more quickly, required less pain relief, and were assessed more positively by nursing staff when their windows overlooked trees rather than brick walls. Nothing else about their care changed, only what they could see. The presence of greenery appeared to calm the nervous system, reduce stress, and support the body’s innate healing processes. 

She widens this lens beyond hospitals to mental health settings, prisons and rehabilitation programs, where access to green space has been associated with reduced aggression, improved mood, better emotional regulation and, in some cases, lower rates of reoffending.

Depending on where we live and how we move through our days, access to nature is not always incidental; for some of us, it must be actively sought out for both general wellbeing and therapeutic benefit. When permitted, I leave the ward, step out through the hospital doors, and wander the gardens that surround it. I choose the leafiest paths, those thick with foliage, often picking rosemary or gum leaves along the way. Stuart-Smith draws on studies showing that people who consciously choose routes through green spaces, tree-lined streets or parks, experience lower stress levels across the day than those travelling through more densely built environments. These effects persist even when the journey takes no additional time, suggesting that brief, regular encounters with greenery can support nervous system regulation, mood, and attentional capacity well beyond the moment itself.  

At a time when technology dominates our lives, land-to-house ratios continue to shrink, and we spend more hours indoors, finding a counterbalance to this highly stimulating, energy-draining world is increasingly important. Depending on where you live, your socioeconomic circumstances, and your access to green space, that counterbalance can take many forms, from caring for a single plant on a windowsill to, where space allows, replacing lawn with trees and shrubs, or transforming nature strips into edible gardens that connect both community and nature.

Emerging research suggests that exposure to healthy, microbe-rich soil, through activities such as gardening or tending compost, can help diversify the gut microbiome. This microbial diversity supports immune function, aids digestion, and may influence mood and stress regulation through pathways involved in neurotransmitter production, including serotonin. As Lucy Jones observes in Losing Eden, engaging with the living earth around us, feeling soil between our fingers or walking barefoot on grass, nourishes both body and mind in ways that modern, indoor lifestyles do not. 

Becoming aware of the healing potential of nature allows us to consciously weave our lives within and around it. Actively choosing to look up and take in our surroundings, rather than down at our phones in life’s in-between moments, can support health just as meaningfully as more deliberate daily practices such as exercise.

Robin Wall Kimmerer, scientist and Indigenous writer, writes in Braiding Sweetgrass that in some Indigenous languages, plants are known as “those who take care of us.” This care does not always have to require much effort or pursuit; nature is already waiting, growing alongside us, asking only that we pay attention.

What is Placenta Previa?

Placenta previa is a pregnancy condition in which the placenta implants low in the uterus and partially or completely covers the cervix, the opening to the birth canal. While the placenta typically attaches higher in the uterus, its lower position can increase the risk of painless bleeding in the second or third trimester, particularly as the cervix begins to thin or open and as the lower portion of the uterus expands more rapidly around 28–33 weeks’ gestation, which can further exacerbate bleeding. Any bleeding that occurs requires careful monitoring. The condition is often identified during routine ultrasound, though some people experience no symptoms at all. In many cases diagnosed earlier in pregnancy, the placenta shifts upward as the uterus grows and resolves on its own. When it persists closer to birth, ongoing monitoring and a planned caesarean delivery are usually recommended to support the safety of both parent and baby.

Books I Have Loved on Nature and Health

1. Losing Eden, Lucy Jones
Explores how human lives are connected to the natural world and the consequences of environmental loss for wellbeing.

2. The Well-Gardened Mind, Sue Stuart-Smith
Examines the relationship between gardening and mental health, and how caring for plants can support emotional recovery and resilience.

3. Braiding Sweetgrass, Robin Wall Kimmerer
Combines Indigenous knowledge and scientific insights to explore the reciprocal relationship between humans and the environment.

4. Vitamin N & The Last Child in the Woods, Richard Louv
Discuss the importance of connecting with nature, particularly for children, and the effects this connection can have on mental and physical health. 

On My Reading List

1. Finding the Mother Tree, Suzanne Simard
A combination of memoir and scientific exploration about forest ecology, focusing on how trees communicate and interact within ecosystems.

2. Blue Mind, Wallace J. Nichols
Examines the scientific evidence for how being near, in, or on water affects mental and physical wellbeing.