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Designing for belonging: What master planned communities and outdoor hospitality teach us about connection 

09/29/2026 Voice Tagged Under: Community Development, Hospitality, Landscape Architecture, Planning

By Lance Ippel, Senior Planner at RVi Planning + Landscape Architecture 

When we talk about “community” as designers, we aren’t just talking about the physical layout of streets, parks, or open spaces. Community is all about connection, and design plays an important role in how people connect to each other. In my experience designing master planned communities (MPCs) and outdoor hospitality destinations, I’ve seen the way spaces influence how people meet, socialize, and ultimately feel a sense of belonging. These outcomes are not accidental. They emerge from the careful layering of social connections, programs, and design elements. 

As a landscape designer, I approach every project with the end user in mind. How will someone move through this space? How will they find their way, meet others, or carve out solitude when they need it? How do the functional community components, amenities, and activities interact to create an experience that feels welcoming to everyone? I answer all these questions through a layered design approach. 

Layered design is a method of creating outdoor spaces by considering the various ecological, functional, and aesthetic elements that overlap and interact with each other. It ensures that all the elements of a personalized, inviting space, such as easy navigation, welcoming gathering spaces, and flexibility, all come together seamlessly to create a positive experience. MPCs and outdoor hospitality spaces are two types of communities that may have different physical outcomes but share a common design goal: to create environments that are intuitive, engaging, and welcoming to everyone. 

Two worlds, one goal: Connection   

At first glance, a master planned community and an outdoor hospitality destination may seem like two very different worlds. MPCs are long-term residential environments built to support everyday life, while outdoor hospitality can mean anything from a weekend camping trip to a month-long RV adventure. But the truth is that both share a surprising number of design goals. 

First, navigation and connectivity are central to both. In a community, residents should be able to comfortably navigate their neighborhood whether by foot, bike, or car. As a designer, I often imagine how I would give directions to a friend visiting for the first time. No matter how large the development, people should never feel lost or disoriented. In outdoor hospitality, this concept shows up in how people drive into a site, park, and then shift into pedestrian mode. Campgrounds, glamping resorts, and RV parks all need clear wayfinding so guests can relax into their experience instead of worrying about getting around. 

Both types of environments also rely heavily on gathering spaces. In MPCs, these might be central plazas, pedestrian promenades, or flexible-use parks where a neighborhood can host a birthday party one weekend and a cultural festival the next. Outdoor hospitality spaces also provide central nodes, but they often lean more toward walkable, intimate hubs like campfire circles, picnic shelters, or trailheads that naturally invite interaction with both people and nature. 

Finally, both require a strong balance between individualized experiences and collective engagement. In a master planned community, residents may want quiet sidewalks for evening walks as much as they want vibrant community centers. In an outdoor resort, a guest might choose between spending time solo in a hammock or joining a group hike. Both contexts succeed when they provide options for socializing that feel comfortable no matter if someone comes alone, in a couple, with family, or as part of a larger group. healing process.

Lively communal courtyard at Catchlight Crossings with red chairs and lush trees.

Different scales and different rhythms 

The key difference in these two communities lies in scale and permanence. 

Master planned communities are designed for longevity and growth over decades. I see them as functioning like a puzzle within a puzzle, where each section has its own identity but connects seamlessly to the larger whole. These places are built to feel like home in the truest sense: a backdrop for daily routines, family milestones, and neighborhood traditions. That makes navigation and comfort especially important because residents need to feel secure, grounded, and confident that their community supports the rhythms of everyday life. 

The layering of spaces, connections, and programs in MPCs creates a flexible security and comfort, supporting both everyday life and moments of connection. 

Outdoor hospitality environments, on the other hand, are temporary by nature. Visitors are usually there for a defined time, and their needs revolve around creating a meaningful experience in a short span. That makes walkability even more critical. Guests typically arrive by vehicle but then want everything within a short stroll once they’re on-site. For strategic designers, the challenge is twofold: creating spaces that immediately engage people during their stay while also weaving in experiences and elements that are memorable enough to draw them back again and again. Whether it’s the comfort of easily navigating a site, the charm of a communal fire pit where strangers become friends, or the uniqueness of a trail system that feels both accessible and adventurous, these touchpoints turn a temporary visit into a lasting connection. 

Thoughtful layering of experiences encourages both private moments and social connection, allowing outdoor hospitality resorts to become a home away from home, drawing users back for more, and offering comfort and familiarity even in a new and temporary setting. 

People stroll along a wooden boardwalk at sunset, near a vibrant festival scene.

Layering experiences to build belonging and community  

For the end user, a successfully layered experience translates into comfort, ease, and ultimately personal connection. 

In an MPC, strong pedestrian connectivity means parents can let kids bike to the park with confidence. Central gathering areas mean neighbors can meet without needing to drive across town. The sidewalk in front of a home can connect to the regional trail system that connects scenic landscapes to the larger city. Thoughtful layered design transforms what could be just another subdivision into a neighborhood where people know each other’s names. 

In outdoor hospitality, layered experiences ensure that even in an unfamiliar setting, visitors feel grounded. Clear trails, logical layouts, and inviting gathering spaces help guests focus less on logistics and more on connection, whether that’s roasting marshmallows with strangers around a campfire or simply enjoying a quiet morning coffee with a view. 

The overlap between these two worlds reminds us that layered design is not just about the lines on a plan. It is about shaping human experience in ways that make people feel at home. When design is fragmented or disconnected, people notice. Confusing layouts, inaccessible gathering spaces, or a lack of flexible options all make it harder for people to feel comfortable. Layering social opportunities, programming, and design elements by contrast, removes barriers and fosters both intentional and spontaneous connection. 

Community doesn’t happen by accident. It is cultivated through intentional design choices that prioritize meaningful connection, flexibility, and comfort. These environments don’t just provide shelter or recreation; they build empathy, strengthen neighborhoods, and expand cultural horizons. 

Layered design is the thread that weaves these experiences together. It bridges the permanent and the temporary, the familiar and the new. When we peer past the overt presentation of a space—be it a master planned community or outdoor hospitality—we can better design for connection and belonging. In doing so, we do more than build spaces; we build community, shared culture, and a lasting sense of place

Author Bio: Lance Ippel is a Senior Planner at RVi Planning + Landscape Architecture in the Austin, Texas office and has more than nine years of experience in landscape architecture, planning, and land use. His work spans master-planned communities, RV and glamping resorts, marinas, and parks, where he coordinates projects and integrates land use, infrastructure, and design to create places that fit their surroundings and serve the people who use them. A member of ASLA and ULI, Lance is passionate about outdoor hospitality and shaping places that connect people to nature.

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Project Spotlight: Star Farms at Lakewood Ranch  

09/22/2026 Project Spotlight Tagged Under: Community Development, Landscape Architecture, Master Planned Community

A connected approach to resort style living 

For many communities, resort-style living is defined by its amenities. At Star Farm at Lakewood Ranch, it begins with how those amenities, homes, and natural systems fit together. Located in Manatee County, Florida, this 700-acre, gated multigenerational lifestyle community is planned as a resort ranch hometown, offering 1,500 single-family homes, paired villa retreats, and townhomes alongside spaces designed for wellness, social engagement, and outdoor recreation.  

As Forestar Group’s vision for Star Farms took shape, RVi supported the project through master planning, land planning, site planning for four amenity tracts and the trail system, and landscape architecture for the community’s extensive common areas and amenities. Together, these services helped establish a connected framework for everyday life, with places to gather, move, play, relax, and spend time outdoors.  

A landscape for every generation  

A multigenerational community needs more than a single gathering space or one type of recreation. It needs a range of settings that support different ages, interests, and daily routines. At Star Farms, the amenity tracts are organized to provide that variety while remaining part of a larger, connected landscape.  

Residents can move from private neighborhoods into shared spaces that support both activity and everyday social connection. Greenways and trails extend through the community, creating a network for walking, exploring, and moving between amenities. The network helps make outdoor recreation part of the daily experience rather than an occasional destination, while also creating opportunities for informal gatherings among neighbors.  

The plan also recognizes that community life happens on different scales. Some spaces are suited to larger gatherings and programmed events, while others allow for a slower pace—a shaded walk, a conversation along the trail, or a few quiet minutes near the lake. Providing this range gives residents multiple ways to participate in the life of the community and helps the landscape feel welcoming throughout the day.  

Amenities with room for every kind of day  

Star Farms’ four resort amenity campuses were designed to support a full range of experiences. Multiple clubhouses, a fitness center, coffee shop, bar and grill, and resort-style pool and spa provide places to gather, recharge, and connect. Flex lawns and event spaces offer adaptable settings for community events, outdoor programming, and activities that can evolve over time. Distributing the amenity sites across four separate campuses makes recreation and relaxation accessible throughout the neighborhood.  

Active living continues throughout the outdoor spaces. Residents can gather for a game of bocce, pickleball, or tennis, while a playground with a future planned splash pad gives younger residents room to play. Multiple dog parks provide space for four-legged family members, and the trail system provides a more continuous connection to the native ecosystem and existing wetlands. Together, these elements create choices for a morning walk, an afternoon game, a family outing, or an evening gathering with neighbors.

Designing for connection and wellness   

The strength of Star Farms is not simply the number of amenities, but the way the pieces work together. The community’s planning and landscape architecture establish a setting where wellness, recreation, and social connection overlap. A resident may begin the day on the trails, meet a neighbor for coffee, spend time at the pools, or join a community event without leaving the larger neighborhood environment.  

The approach also gives the community flexibility. Shared spaces can support structural programming as well as spontaneous use, allowing residents to shape the landscape around their own routines. The result is a lifestyle that feels active without being prescriptive and social without requiring every experience to be organized.  

Preserving the character of the site 

While the amenity program brings energy and activity to Star Farms, the landscape is grounded in the site’s existing character. RVi collaborated with Atwell, the project’s civil engineer, to preserve existing live oaks along the proposed trail system and lake banks. These mature trees help anchor the outdoor experience and connect the community’s new amenities to the Florida landscape that surrounds them.  

Integrating the trees into the trail and lakefront framework required coordination between planning, civil engineering, and landscape architecture. It also reflects a broader project goal: to create a community that feels established and connected to its setting as it grows. The preserved live oaks provide recognizable landmarks along the landscape, helping Star Farms to establish a sense of authentic identity that cannot be created through amenities alone.  

A resort ranch hometown 

With Star Farms at Lakewood Ranch fully developed, its planning framework is designed to support more than residential growth. It creates a setting where homes, amenities, trails, and natural features work together to shape a cohesive community experience. By pairing resort-style programming with connected outdoor spaces and respect for the existing landscape, Forestar and RVi are creating a place that supports wellness, activity, and belonging across generations.  

Star Farms demonstrates how thoughtful planning and landscape architecture can turn a collection of distinctive amenities into a true neighborhood experience—a neighborhood that encourages residents to get outside, spend time together, and feel connected to the place they call home.  

The success of Star Farms led Forestar to acquire and develop the parcel to the east as Saddlestone at Star Farms, expanding the community with additional shared amenities and an extended trail network. 

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Employee Spotlight: RVi Principal Jack Caldwell, PLA on how a passion for golf led to landscape architecture, creating places that shape lasting memories, and taking on the next challenge. 

09/15/2026 People Tagged Under: Campuses, Community Development, Landscape Architecture
Person in a blue suit and lime tie with green plants in the background.

Based in RVi’s Orlando office, Principal Jack Caldwell, PLA, was recently promoted to Principal, marking the latest chapter in a career that began with an interest in golf course design. With more than 16 years of experience in landscape architecture, Jack’s work spans residential communities, institutional campuses, commercial development, streetscapes, and golf-focused projects.  

His work has taken him from master planning and site design through detailed design and construction, including projects such as the Florida Gulf Coast University Great Lawn, Esplanade communities across the Southeast, and Golden Ocala Golf & Equestrian Club.  

In this Employee Spotlight, Jack shares what continues to challenge and inspire him, the project that helped shape him as a landscape architect, how golf continues to influence his work, and what happens when a landscape architect decides to take on American Ninja Warrior. 

What inspired you to pursue a career in landscape architecture? 

My interest in landscape architecture began in high school, when I dreamed of becoming a golf course architect. As I explored that path, I learned that landscape architecture was the foundation for designing golf courses. That discovery introduced me to the broader possibilities of the profession and set me on the career path I’ve followed ever since.  

Team Caldwell at the ballpark! ⚾ Jack with his wife, Kaleigh, daughter Capri, and son Sawyer, enjoying some family time at a Braves game.
You were recently promoted to Principal. What does reaching this point in your career mean to you, and how do you see your role changing?  

If you had asked me three, five, or even 10 years ago if I would be capable of filling a Principal role at a firm like RVi, I probably would have doubted it. Reaching this point is a testament to the mentors I’ve had throughout my career and the opportunities I’ve had to grow. 

It’s incredibly rewarding to be part of a firm that creates a path for an ambitious, competitive person like me to achieve those career goals and recognize the hard work that goes into them. I’ve had mentors at RVi who have stuck with me through both failure and success. It hasn’t been a perfect path, and I’m certainly not perfect, but I think that’s part of the story. We learn from our failures and our successes, and we become who we are through that process. 

Looking ahead, I see my role shifting to focus more on strategically building teams, improving our systems and services, strengthening our client network, and taking greater ownership of the health of the business. I’m excited about the challenges ahead. 

You originally dreamed of becoming a golf course architect. How does that early passion for golf still influence the way you think about landscape architecture today?  

Golf was really the thing that connected me to the outdoors. It became a retreat from the stress of life as a young person—my escape and a place where I could connect with the outdoors in all kinds of environments. 

I grew up in Sebring, Florida, where we had lakes and golf courses everywhere, so golf became a big part of my life. I was a high school All-American and a scratch golfer. It was pretty consuming. 

As I got older, I realized I was ready for another chapter, but the passion for golf and design never completely went away. Today, I have the opportunity to design master-planned communities with golf courses, help plan the courses, and work alongside golf course architects through design and implementation. In that sense, it has really come full circle. 

It took 13 to 15 years before I started having the opportunity to play a key role in golf course planning and routing, and now I’m doing it pretty regularly. So, the dream didn’t completely go away. 

And for those wondering: Jack says his current golf handicap is about a 12. 

Jack and daughter, Capri conquered the 2025 Spartan race together—obstacles, grit, and all—and came home with hard-earned medals!
What has been your favorite or most challenging design project? 

The Great Lawn at Florida Gulf Coast University has been my favorite project so far. As an Associate Project Manager at the time, I learned more from this project than any other about the full design and implementation process—from stakeholder collaboration, client communication, and teamwork to contracts, scheduling, construction details, and execution.  

The project became a tangible expression of everything I was learning as I pursued my professional landscape architecture license, and it played a significant role in preparing me for and helping me pass the licensure exams.  

Most rewarding of all was seeing how the design influenced campus life—how people moved through the space, gathered there, and made it part of their daily experience. 

Aerial view of FGCU Great Lawn with green roofs and landscaped pathways.
The Great Lawn at Florida Gulf Coast University

Is there another project that has particular significance to you? 

Esplanade at St. Marys in St. Marys, Georgia, stands out for a different reason. It was the first project where I really played a key role in the design. I was able to be involved up front in planning and design and then stay involved through execution alongside the golf course architect. 

Being able to help bring the course to life from start to finish made it especially meaningful. There are a lot of projects I could point to, but some become sentimental because they represent pivotal moments in your career. 

You compete in American Ninja Warrior competitions. How did this start?  

My daughter was five years old, and we loved watching the show together. She would just light up every time it came on, so I started looking for a gym where we could try it. 

We found one about a mile from our house. It had no air conditioning and there was a dumpster out front. It was basically a small industrial warehouse, but it gave us a place to learn and train. She absolutely fell in love with it, and I wanted to be alongside her on that journey, so I started training and competing with her. 

She’s now 13 and has been ranked in the top 10 in the world for the past four years. So, it’s become a really big part of our story. 

For me, it’s also a way to stay connected with her. Those moments become harder to find as kids get older, so I’m still trying to be the old guy who can keep up. I have a rip on my hand right now because of it, so it’s not always easy, but it’s worth it. 

I’ll be competing in Tampa soon, and my daughter is going to be my coach. 

Like father, like daughter. Jack and Capri celebrate their UNAA medals after competing together in one of their favorite shared adventures.
Jack and family enjoying the great outdoors.
Blog

The healing power of place: The science behind healing gardens and better healthcare outcomes

08/26/2026 Voice Tagged Under: Campuses, Landscape Architecture, Planning

By Geoff Roehll, ASLA, CLARB, Director of Healthcare and Senior Living at RVi Planning + Landscape Architecture

The environments we inhabit shape our health in countless ways. Air quality, access to nature, opportunities for physical activity, noise, stress, and even the views outside our windows all influence our physical and mental well-being.

While many health factors lie beyond our control, our surroundings play a significant role in determining how we feel, how we recover, and how we thrive. It follows, then, that the environments where we receive care should be designed to support healing.

This isn’t just conjecture; decades of research have reinforced this connection. In a landmark 1984 study, environmental psychologist Dr. Roger Ulrich found that patients recovering from surgery who had views of nature experienced shorter hospital stays, fewer minor postoperative complications, and required fewer doses of strong pain medication than patients whose windows overlooked a brick wall.

Simply having a view of nature through the window can measurably influence recovery.

Since that groundbreaking study, a growing body of evidence has continued to demonstrate the relationship between nature, the built environment, and patient outcomes. And isn’t it something we all feel intuitively? As our understanding has evolved, so has the way hospitals approach planning and design. Healthcare campuses are increasingly viewed as holistic healing environments where landscapes, gardens, circulation and wayfinding, outdoor spaces, and everyday interactions with nature all contribute to treatment and recovery.

So, what does that look like in practice? How can a garden heal? Why do decisions about parking, circulation, or wayfinding matter? And how do these investments create value for healthcare organizations? It all begins with understanding how thoughtful design can reduce stress and support healing at every step of the healthcare journey.

Beyond aesthetics, every detail of a healing garden is meticulously crafted to support resident needs at Tabor Hills, a senior living community in Naperville, Illinois.

Healing gardens and the theory of supportive design  

Understanding how a garden can heal requires understanding the role that stress plays in the healing process. Elevated stress can increase blood pressure, raise cortisol levels, interfere with immune function, heighten the perception of pain, and make recovery more difficult. Patients aren’t the only ones affected. Families coping with uncertainty and clinicians working long shifts experience many of the same physiological responses.

That’s what makes healing gardens so much more than attractive outdoor amenities. They’re carefully designed therapeutic environments intended to buffer against stress and create the conditions that allow healing to happen.

The foundation of Dr. Ulrich’s Theory of Supportive Gardens suggests four key ways by which gardens reduce stress: by helping patients regain a sense of control, fostering social support, encouraging movement, and providing positive distractions through nature. These four principles lay the groundwork for evidence-based healing garden design.

When we design healing gardens, we create opportunities for patients to regain a sense of agency in an environment where so much of their experience is prescribed. That might mean providing multiple destinations instead of a single path, offering choices between sun and shade, or creating quiet spaces where patients and families can spend time together away from the clinical setting.

We’re also thinking about the programming of the space, how the landscape supports care beyond passive enjoyment. The Integrative Medicine Garden at Advocate Good Shepherd Hospital in Barrington, Illinois, illustrates this principle. Designed to complement the hospital’s integrative medicine program, the garden extends care beyond the building itself, creating positive distractions and spaces for yoga, counseling, quiet reflection, walking, and social support that directly support the services offered inside the adjacent treatment center.

Movement is another critical consideration. Gently looping pathways encourage walking without creating dead ends or confusing circulation. Accessible routes, comfortable grades, and intuitive navigation allow people of varying abilities to move confidently through the space while supporting rehabilitation and light physical activity.

Finally, every sensory experience matters. The sound of moving water can soften the mechanical noise of a hospital campus. Native plantings, seasonal color, birds, butterflies, and shifting light provide positive natural distractions that gently draw attention away from pain, anxiety, or uncertainty. Together, these seemingly small interventions help restore a sense of calm—and ultimately support the healing process.

Soft lighting, lush plantings, and the illuminated water wall transform the garden into a peaceful retreat that supports reflection and relaxation throughout the day and into the evening. 

The healthcare campus as a healing journey

While healing gardens are one of the most recognizable expressions of this philosophy, they aren’t the only environments that influence patient outcomes. The same principles that guide the design of a therapeutic landscape can—and should—inform every aspect of a healthcare campus. 

Throughout the master planning process, we evaluate every decision through the perspective of the people using the campus every day—patients, families, visitors, clinicians, and staff. From the moment someone arrives, each interaction with the environment has the potential to either increase stress or alleviate it. 

Healing begins long before a patient enters an exam room. Before treatment even begins, the arrival experience shapes how people feel about a healthcare campus. Finding parking, navigating unfamiliar surroundings, and locating the right entrance may seem like operational concerns, but they have meaningful human impacts. Every unnecessary detour or confusing decision point adds cognitive and emotional burden during an already difficult moment. 

Accessibility is equally important. For hospitals and especially senior living communities, thoughtful planning minimizes walking distances, reduces grade changes, provides frequent opportunities to rest, and creates routes that feel safe, comfortable, and intuitive for people of all ages and abilities. These decisions may appear small in isolation, but together they help reduce stress, improve confidence, and create a more supportive experience for everyone who uses the campus. 

That same philosophy extends to staff. Outdoor courtyards, rooftop gardens, walking paths, and other spaces for respite give clinicians opportunities to decompress during demanding shifts. Supporting the well-being of caregivers ultimately supports better care for patients, reinforcing the idea that a healing environment serves everyone—not just those receiving treatment. 

That philosophy takes many forms depending on the needs of a campus. At the Lynn and Jerry Flaherty Family Respite Garden at OSF Saint Francis Medical Center, for instance, we transformed an underutilized rooftop into a restorative retreat for patients, families, and healthcare staff. Inspired by a journey through the woods, the garden weaves together intimate seating areas, gathering spaces, water features, and views of the Illinois River. While the space serves those who can access it directly, it also provides restorative views from surrounding patient rooms, reinforcing the idea that healing can occur through both experience and observation.

The Lynn and Jerry Flaherty Family Respite Garden at OSF Saint Francis Medical Center
transforms an underutilized rooftop into functional green space that provides access to and views of nature.

The business case for healing environments 

The value of healing gardens and thoughtfully planned healthcare campuses is more than just added amenities. Shorter hospital stays, improved treatment responses, and lower rates of complications can contribute to more efficient care delivery. Intuitive campus circulation can improve patient satisfaction and strengthen community perception, helping organizations to differentiate themselves in an increasingly competitive landscape.  

The benefits extend to the people delivering care as well. Physicians, nurses, and hospital staff work in environments defined by long hours, emotional demands, and high rates of burnout. Access to outdoor respite areas and restorative landscapes can contribute to greater job satisfaction and support employee retention.  

Taken together, these benefits reinforce an important reality: investing in healing environments isn’t just about creating beautiful places. It’s about creating healthcare campuses that function better for everyone who depends on them—patients, families, clinicians, staff, and the organizations that serve them. The same evidence-based principles that improve the human experience also support stronger operational outcomes

The Wings of Hope Angel Garden at Edward Hospital in Naperville offers moments of respite for staff as well as patients.

The role we play

Everything discussed—from healing gardens and intuitive circulation to evidence-based campus planning—requires collaboration across disciplines. As planners and landscape architects, we don’t design healthcare facilities in isolation. We work alongside architects, engineers, clinicians, administrators, and operations teams to understand how people use a campus today and how it can better support care tomorrow. 

Our role is to translate research into places that work. That means balancing clinical needs with human experience, coordinating complex site constraints, and identifying opportunities where the landscape can improve outcomes. Whether we’re developing a campus master plan, designing a healing garden, or reimagining outdoor spaces, every decision is guided by the same question: How can this environment better support the people who rely on it? 

Because healing doesn’t happen in just one room, and great healthcare doesn’t begin or end at the front door. It happens throughout the entire journey. And if something as simple as a view through a window can influence recovery, imagine what’s possible when nature becomes an integrative part of the healing process. 

Author Bio: As RVi’s Director of Healthcare and Senior Living, Geoff Roehll has led the planning and design of healthcare and senior living landscapes for more than three decades. Coming from a family of healthcare professionals, Geoff has long been passionate about creating environments that support healing through thoughtful planning and evidence-based landscape architecture. In addition to his work with RVi, Geoff was an instructor at the Chicago Botanic Garden’s Therapeutic Garden Certificate Program and regularly shares his expertise at regional and national healthcare conferences.

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Employee Spotlight: RVi Principal Bryan Warne, PLA, on experience-based design, creating places that heal, and thinking at 30,000 feet

08/19/2026 People Tagged Under: Campuses, Landscape Architecture

Based in RVi’s Austin, Texas office, Principal Bryan Warne, PLA, brings a broad perspective shaped by more than two decades in landscape architecture, with particular expertise in healthcare and wellness. In this Employee Spotlight, Bryan shares his unconventional path to the profession, his approach to designing places that support well-being, and why the work of landscape architects matters more than many realize.

Finding your path

Your career has taken you through city planning, boutique design, construction, running your own firm, and leading landscape architecture for a healthcare and senior living practice. How has each chapter shaped the way you approach design today? 

Separately, each of those chapters have shaped how I approach design, certainly. But I think it’s more what they’ve done for my approach collectively that matters. I try not to design in a vacuum, and it’s not like I can just turn up one knob and turn down another anyway. I hope those combined experiences have given me a well-rounded and thoughtful perspective on every project, with every client. To see as many of the angles as I can, to answer as many design questions as practical, to provide a solution that makes sense, and ultimately leaves us (RVi), the client, and the end user feeling like we all won. 

How did you find your way to landscape architecture, and what led you to focus on healthcare and wellness design? 

I wasn’t necessarily drawn to landscape architecture; I sort of stumbled into it. When I was young, I wanted to be a Marine Corps pilot. I wanted to serve my country, make a difference, design planes, fly into space, and explore the galaxy as an astronaut. I was also an athlete and sports fan who happened to be born in Michigan. Putting all of that together, my plan was to attend the University of Michigan’s Naval ROTC program, play soccer, and graduate as a second lieutenant in the Marine Corps with a degree in aerospace engineering. But things don’t always go as planned. 

Reality punch number one: I didn’t receive a scholarship to Michigan, so I enrolled at Texas A&M, which also has a highly ranked aerospace program. Reality punch number two: I wasn’t mature or prepared enough to succeed in aerospace engineering and risked failing out during my first year. One afternoon, I sat in my dorm room with a few barely interested friends and tried to figure out what I was going to do. We went through the course catalog major by major as I tried to picture myself in each one. 

I eventually settled on landscape architecture. My love of the outdoors, working with my hands, being active, and giving back all seemed to align. Reality punch number three: aerospace didn’t want to let me out, and landscape architecture didn’t want to let me in. I argued my case with both programs, and eventually they agreed to give me a probationary year to prove myself. I buckled down and got it done. I said goodbye to flying spaceships and hello to endless questions about mowing lawns. 

I didn’t focus specifically on healthcare and wellness until later in my career. Although I believe every project inherently provides some level of wellness to its users, it wasn’t a primary focus until I began working for an architecture firm specializing in healthcare and senior living. It was a direct pipeline to making a difference in people’s lives. Every project, decision, and stroke of the marker or pencil had the potential to affect someone’s life in a profound and meaningful way. That was 12 years ago, and I’ve been passionate about it ever since. 

A courtyard at a senior living community provides a peaceful and quiet space to enjoy nature.

Looking back over more than two decades in the profession, what has kept you passionate about the work?  

Realizing that we make a difference with what we do. Truly. I often say we’re not firemen, police officers, or doctors in terms of maintaining perspective when dealing with clients and our level of professional stress. But the reality is, we do have a major impact on people’s lives. How they experience the world around them. How they interact with one another. How they grow and mature from young kids feeling bare grass under their feet for the first time to being surrounded by loved ones as they leave this Earth.  

We touch almost every moment of that journey, intentionally or not. There’s a shared experience of being human, regardless of who you are, where you live, and what your story is. What’s more human than breathing fresh air, feeling the warmth of the sun or seeing the light of the moon on your skin, seeing and hearing the abundance of life around you, knowing you’re a part of it all, and sharing those moments with your people. We help shape those experiences and environments. All of them. I mean, how can you not be passionate about that? 

Designing for healing & wellness 

We often hear about evidence-based design in healthcare. How can thoughtfully designed outdoor spaces influence healing, wellness, and quality of life?

I sometimes think we put too much emphasis on terms like “evidence-based design” or “biophilic design” when our connection to nature is something we understand instinctively. We know how it feels to chase a friend through the grass, sit quietly in the warmth of the sun or cool of the shade, stroll through a park, or roll down the car window and feel the breeze. These are simple, universal experiences that remind us how naturally we respond to the outdoors. 

We all experience those things throughout our lives. When it comes to landscape architecture, if we need a term to validate a design decision, I think it should be called experience-based design—our own primordial, instinctual human experience. 

The actual science is exhaustive and extremely compelling, especially for medical or design nerds. But the short version is that thoughtfully designed outdoor spaces can support:

  • Physical well-being by encouraging movement, activity, healthy habits, better sleep, and reduced stress. 
  • Emotional well-being by providing opportunities for autonomy, stress relief, escapism, reflection, and time outdoors.  
  • Intellectual well-being by encouraging creativity, problem-solving, learning, and new ways of engaging the brain.  
  • Social well-being by creating spaces that bring people together, encourage interaction, strengthen relationships, and foster a sense of belonging.  
  • Spiritual well-being by providing places for privacy, self-reflection, meditation, fellowship, gratitude, and compassion.  
  • Occupational wellness by allowing people to share their talents, develop new skills, contribute to others, and find purpose.  
  • Environmental wellness by nurturing our relationship with the Earth, encouraging stewardship, and promoting pride in the places we share.  

Ultimately, outdoor spaces influence healing, wellness, and quality of life because they support the many ways people need to move, think, connect, reflect, and find meaning. 

This month’s editorial theme is Campuses. Whether it’s a healthcare campus, senior living community, or corporate environment, what role should outdoor spaces play in supporting the people who use them every day? 

It’s a slightly different approach for each, but ultimately, there are objectives that are shared and translated across typologies. One role outdoor spaces play is supporting intuitive and appropriate wayfinding. This doesn’t just mean signs. We can use design features that objectively and subconsciously move people in a certain direction or compel them to want to “be” in one particular place or another. 

Another common role should be providing spaces for each user group to use distinctly from one another, while also providing flexibility. This requires thoughtfully considering the unique needs and wants of those separate groups and how they ultimately interact. You must consider everyone—from CEOs and employees to patients or residents and families, doctors and caregivers, students and staff, and visitors and vendors. 

Circulation is also an important role, both pedestrian and vehicular. As designers, we sometimes have a myopic view of the spaces and projects we’re dealing with, and our clients almost always do as well. It is our job to think about the bigger picture and understand how the entire fabric comes together, particularly on larger campus spaces or in urban environments. 

One of the single most important roles to me, and one that can drive many others, is appropriate programming. How are these spaces actually going to be used? I’m not sure how any design takes shape without first considering programming—from large-scale planning, where the programming may be very broad, to hyper-specific user groups and prescribed activities. In every case, the programming must be considered simultaneously with the building’s use and internal programming. One cannot act alone; each must support the other. 

The design process

Your colleagues describe you as a “big picture thinker” who also pays close attention to the details. How do you balance long-term vision with the practical realities of a project?  

Start at 30,000 feet, land the target. I think the secret for me is having a strong grasp of the project’s realities from the get-go. I want to understand as much as possible about every part of the project from the very beginning; the site, owner requirements, codes, user needs, goals, and parameters. I go down that rabbit hole because it gives me context and helps me see the goal in the distance. 

I keep all of that in mind and work my way down from the top. I jump out of the plane and from that moment till I land on the ground I’m aiming for a very small spot that’s a very long way away. But I must start at 30,000 feet and work the process. I can’t – and I don’t want – to get there too quickly or I’ll be unhappy with the results.  

I keep my eyes on where I’m supposed to land, learning more and adjusting to the wind along the way. I continually reanalyze new realities, reprocess the information, and apply it to the solution to make sure I hit the tar

Thoughtful programming connects indoor and outdoor spaces, ensuring each supports how people live, gather, and experience a place.
Leadership

You’ve presented nationally on wellness design and published articles on creating healthier environments. What ideas are you most passionate about sharing with clients and emerging professionals, and what advice would you offer young designers—particularly those interested in healthcare or campus planning—as you mentor them and help them grow? 

What I’m most passionate about sharing is the importance of what we do, the impact it has on people, and honestly, how simple it can be when the support to accomplish it is there. 

That’s the same advice I’d give any young landscape architect, regardless of their specialty: The details matter, and so does the process. Check your ego at the door and focus on the solution, not the problem. 

As a principal, what I enjoy most about mentoring is seeing someone “get it,” whatever “it” may be in that moment. Watching the light switch turn on and then seeing them do more with that understanding than I could, is remarkably satisfying. It’s gratifying to watch people succeed and know that I helped in some way. 

Judy Waxman Memorial Garden at the Campus of Shalom Austin, the Jewish Community Center in Austin.
Personal perspective

Is there a project in your career that you’re especially proud of—not necessarily because it was the biggest, but because of the impact it had on people’s lives? 

There are several—nearly every senior living project I’ve worked on. Any small thing I can do to bring dignity, comfort, compassion, joy, and purpose to someone who may have lost hope or the desire for those things is incredibly meaningful. 

Most recently, I worked on the Judy Waxman Memorial Garden at the Campus of Shalom Austin, the Jewish Community Center in Austin. After Mrs. Waxman’s passing, her family commissioned the garden to honor her memory and legacy of philanthropy. They wanted to create a place for members and visitors to find reflection and peace while continuing their good work. 

I’m proud of how happy her family was and how our team gave them the garden they had envisioned. I’ll always remember that project and that family. 

This beautiful garden honors Judy Waxman’s memory and legacy of philanthropy, creating a peaceful place for reflection for members and visitors.

Outside of work, where do you go to recharge? Is there a favorite outdoor place or landscape that inspires you? 

Not any single one, no. Just generally being able to escape somewhere quiet and remote. Somewhere with trees and water and sun, temps in the 40’s-70’s, and a campfire. 

Bryan enjoys what he values most about the outdoors – time to recharge, explore, and connect with family.
Looking ahead

Healthcare design continues to evolve. What trends are you most excited about, particularly when it comes to outdoor environments and campus planning? 

Big picture, I’m focused on the continued push to validate landscape architecture, and the role landscape architects play in the design process. We’re not fully there yet, but it’s a great time to be a landscape architect. 

Closer to home, I’ve been exploring a new concept that could shift the paradigm around healthcare and community. It would provide essential services to underserved communities while simultaneously addressing some of the funding challenges that keep great and necessary projects from ever getting off the ground. 

Quick takes

Favorite place to visit in Texas? Tough question. At the moment, I’m going with Pedernales Falls State Park.    

One book that has influenced your thinking? The Tao of Poo 

A landscape or garden you’ve visited that left a lasting impression? My paternal grandparents farm in Michigan.

Blog

Project Spotlight: Advocate Good Shepherd Hospital Integrative Healing Medicine Garden

08/12/2026 Project Spotlight Tagged Under: Campuses, Landscape Architecture

Healing through design: How an integrative medicine garden supports whole-person healing 

Healing doesn’t begin and end with clinical care. Every stage of a patient’s journey is shaped by experiences that support the mind, body, and spirit. At Advocate Good Shepherd Hospital, that holistic philosophy extends beyond the treatments provided inside the hospital to the environments where patients, families, and caregivers spend their time, including the outdoor spaces. 

Designed as an extension of the Center for Health and Integrative Medicine, the Integrative Medicine Garden reflects decades of research demonstrating the value of thoughtfully designed outdoor environments in healthcare. Studies have associated these environments with reduced stress, greater emotional restoration, and, in some cases, measurable improvements in patient recovery.  

“Nature has proven to have a notable impact on patient outcomes,” says Geoff Roehll, Director of Healthcare and Senior Living at RVi. “Patients who have access to nature may require less pain medication, recover more quickly, and experience lower stress levels. That’s why hospitals increasingly incorporate healing gardens and restorative outdoor spaces as part of the overall patient experience.” 

How intentional design supports the patient journey 

Inscribed across the garden’s primary water feature are the words “journey through a garden.” The phrase reflects the project’s guiding philosophy that for patients and families, the path through treatment and healing is just that—a journey—and every path, gathering space, and moment of respite was intentionally designed to support them along the way. 

While aesthetics played a major role in the garden’s sensory experiences, ultimately, its form followed its function. RVi worked closely with hospital staff to understand how the space could extend and enhance the hospital’s integrative approach to care, developing a program centered around the core tenets of mind, body, and spirit. 

That program is reflected in the way the garden unfolds. A wall of windows creates a visual connection to the landscape, while direct access from the interior flexible yoga space extends wellness activities outdoors. An outdoor yoga lawn and patio transition into meandering pathways that encourage gentle movement and connect a series of spaces for counseling, meditation, and quiet reflection. A low seating wall and evergreen plantings define the garden’s edge, creating a sense of enclosure while buffering the space from the surrounding hospital campus and parking areas. 

Each space feels distinct yet remains seamlessly connected through circulation, weaving through flower gardens, water features, benches, and shaded areas. That sense of connection also creates flexibility and a greater sense of autonomy in an otherwise prescribed setting. 

“When so much of a patient’s treatment journey may feel out of their control, the landscape gives them choices about how they engage with their surroundings,” says Roehll. Visitors can seek out sun or shade, conversation or solitude, movement or quiet reflection, depending on what they need in the moment. 

Those moments of choice were intentionally crafted—driven by programming, aligned with healthcare outcomes, and influenced by countless design decisions that support every detail of the landscape. 

Outdoor patio with wooden table set, brick building, lush greenery, and overhead shade.
Pergolas and seating areas throughout the garden offer visitors a choice of sun or shade, creating comfortable spaces for quiet reflection, conversation, or respite. 

Every detail has a purpose 

In a healing garden, details that might appear purely aesthetic often serve a much deeper purpose. At the Integrative Medicine Garden, every material, planting, and hardscaping element was selected for the role it plays in creating a comfortable, restorative experience.  

The garden’s central water wall serves as both a visual focal point and an acoustic feature. The sound of cascading water creates a calming atmosphere while providing subtle white noise that enhances privacy for conversations and serves as a backdrop for meditative reflection. Additional pondless water features throughout the garden extend the aquatic sensory benefits, without the maintenance or safety concerns associated with standing water. 

Comfort guided many of the garden’s material selections as well. Darker paving minimizes glare and reflects sunlight that can be uncomfortable for patients with heightened light sensitivity, while shade structures and strategically placed seating create welcoming places to rest. Flexible gathering spaces accommodate everything from organized counseling sessions to informal conversations between families and caregivers. 

Planting design also serves multiple purposes. A diverse mix of trees, shrubs, and flowering plants introduces seasonal color, texture, and fragrance that enrich the sensory experience, while evergreen plantings establish a year-round buffer from surrounding parking areas and hospital activity. Together with low seat walls, they create a sense of enclosure that allows visitors to feel immersed in the landscape rather than the campus beyond. 

Even the infrastructure contributes to the garden’s long-term performance. Rainwater is absorbed through permeable pavers to help manage stormwater naturally, while low lighting features extend the garden’s presence into the evening, ensuring the space remains welcoming throughout the day. 

“When people experience a healing garden, they notice how it makes them feel, not why,” Roehll says. “Our job is to make sure every detail works together to build that experience.” 

Outdoor seating area with illuminated water feature and lush greenery at dusk.
Soft lighting, lush plantings, and the illuminated water wall transform the garden into a peaceful retreat that supports reflection and relaxation throughout the day and into the evening. 

Healing beyond the garden  

While the Integrative Medicine Garden serves as one example of an integrated, restorative landscape, it reflects Advocate Good Shepherd Hospital’s broader commitment to treating the whole person across the entire journey. Rather than viewing healing as something that happens only within clinical spaces, the hospital has embraced an evidence-based approach that considers how every interaction with the natural and built environment can influence the user experience, from patients to families, staff to clinicians, and everyone in between. 

“We’re looking at everything through the lens of the patient, the hospital staff, or the family visiting. For many, the minute you arrive at a hospital, stress starts to rise,” says Roehll. “Anything we can do to reduce that is going to help.” 

That philosophy extends well beyond the garden itself. From intuitive circulation and clear wayfinding to rooftop green space and staff courtyards for respite during shifts, RVi’s hospital campus planning throughout Advocate Good Shepherd has helped to position each element as an opportunity to reduce stress and create a greater sense of comfort for everyone involved. Every pathway, outdoor space, and connection is considered through the lens of how people move, feel, and interact with their surroundings. In this way, the Garden becomes one expression of a much larger healing landscape.  

“You have the intimate space of the garden at the micro-scale, and when we plan and design hospitals, we’re looking at the macro ‘healing garden’, which is the entire campus,” adds Roehll.  

Ultimately, the Integrative Medicine Garden demonstrates that healing is influenced not only by the care people receive, but by the places where that care occurs. Through thoughtful planning and a shared commitment to whole-person wellness, Advocate Good Shepherd Hospital has created a landscape that helps transform moments of waiting, reflection, and recovery into meaningful parts of the healing journey.

Blog

Nothing changed. We did: What parks projects have taught me about community value

07/22/2026 Voice Tagged Under: Landscape Architecture, Planning, Public Places

By Tim Bargainer, Senior Vice President at RVi Planning + Landscape Architecture

In 1998 I was sitting with a man who had been the mayor of Round Rock for the better part of a decade and he was still giving the city his time on the transportation board. We were talking about the future of the community, the way people who genuinely care about a place do, and somewhere in the middle of it I brought up the Brushy Creek corridor. I said I thought the corridor could one day be one of the finest park and trail assets the community would ever own. 

I believed that completely. I was also, I should admit, the youngest and probably the most idealistic person at the table. 

He heard me out. He wasn’t a dismissive man, and this was not a dismissive answer. He told me, more or less, what a lot of people who had actually run a city would have told me then. Parks were good and worthy things. But the town had bigger needs first. It needed water. It needed roads. It needed to keep up with growth that was already coming whether anyone was ready or not. A linear park along the creek was a lovely idea. It just wasn’t essential. 

At the time, I didn’t have an answer to that, at least not one that could move him. I believed the creek was worth more than that. I just couldn’t show him why. Not in the terms that decision would have been made in, anyway. 

For over twenty-five years I’ve thought about that conversation from time to time and I’ve come to believe it was never really about a park along a creek. It was about a single word. Essential. 

Every community has to decide what it can’t do without. That decision comes first, before any budget, and everything else lines up behind it. When he said parks were a quality-of-life item, he wasn’t telling me they had no value, he was telling me where they fell in the order of things. Essential on one side. Everything else on the other. And that idea, however much I loved it, was on the other side. 

He wasn’t wrong to see it that way. He was describing the world as nearly everyone understood it then. Water and roads were infrastructure. Parks were what you got to once the essentials were covered. That was the real limit in the room that day, and it wasn’t his imagination or mine. It was the language itself. 

A way to say it out loud  

One of the first things that really started to change my mind was a study. 

An economist named Ray Perryman put numbers to what a lot of us had felt for years and couldn’t prove. He looked at parks and open space and measured what they did to the things a city council actually votes on. Property values. Local spending. The tax base. When the report came out, I remember the feeling more than any single figure. It wasn’t that parks suddenly mattered. We already knew they mattered. It was that, for the first time, the value we’d been sensing had a language a budget could hear. 

That’s a smaller thing than a revelation and a larger thing than a statistic. It didn’t change the parks. It changed the conversation. A park could now be argued for in the same terms as a road, in the same room, in front of the same people. Research didn’t create the value of parks. It simply helped us recognize value that had always been there.

Then came a flood 

The next thing that really started to change my mind didn’t come from a study. It came from a flood. 

I was working on a park that sat low in the floodplain like so many do. Memorial Park, on Brushy Creek. It wasn’t the kind of place you typically build on. It flooded. In the old way of thinking, that was its weakness. The reason it was a park and not something more valuable was that it wouldn’t have been good for much else. 

Then a major storm blew through, the kind that used to be fairly rare but just really isn’t anymore. I went to look at it afterward. The park was submerged in water. The trails, the fields, all of it, disappeared beneath a slow brown sheet moving through where the ballgames used to be. 

And the Flats, the old neighborhood downstream in downtown Round Rock, was still dry. 

I don’t remember how long I stood there, but I remember exactly what changed. I began to truly understand something I had known on paper for years and had never really felt. The park wasn’t leftover land that happened to flood. The park was doing a job. It was holding the storm so the Flats didn’t have to. Every acre of it under water was an acre of somebody’s living room that stayed dry. The thing we’d thought of as “useless land” was the entire point. 

No one had funded that park to protect those homes. We’d built it for ballfields and trails, and it had been quietly doing something far larger the whole time, without being asked and without being thanked. I had spent years making the case for parks on the basis of what people could do in them. Standing at the edge of that water, I started to understand them by what they do for us whether we ask them to or not. 

Seeing the whole picture 

After that, I noticed I started asking different questions. 

I stopped asking only what was in a park and started asking what it was part of. A stand of old trees stopped being landscaping and became shade over a Texas summer that gets longer every year, which is another way of saying it became public health. A trail stopped being a place to jog and became a way for a kid to get to school without crossing four lanes of traffic. None of this was new. The trees had always thrown shade. The path had always gone from one place to another. What changed was that I finally saw them as part of how a community works, instead of nice things set on top of it. 

Looking back, I couldn’t tell you the day my perspective actually changed. It happened gradually, almost without me noticing. 

Early on I thought in terms of projects. A park here. A trail there. Each one its own thing, argued on its own terms, defended in its own line of the budget. Over time I stopped seeing them that way. A park isn’t one thing doing one job. It’s a piece of ground doing a dozen jobs at once, most of which nobody is counting. It cools the air and holds the water and moves the children and lifts the houses around it and gives a place its name, all at the same time. 

When I say we learned to value these places differently, I don’t mean the parks became more important. I mean our understanding became larger. Recreation was still there. We simply began to recognize that these same places could strengthen our economy, protect our neighborhoods, improve our health, restore habitat, and quietly hold communities together in ways we hadn’t fully appreciated. 

Seeing it differently 

If I could sit with that man again, I don’t think I’d tell him he was wrong. I don’t think he was. 

He asked the right question. What can a growing town afford, and what actually counts as essential? That question never goes away. Every community has to answer it, in every generation, with whatever understanding it happens to have at the time. What’s changed since 1998 isn’t the question. It’s the size of the answer. We know more now, because floods and heat and studies and over twenty-five years of paying attention have taught us more. An idea that couldn’t cross the line into essential back then can cross it easily today, and nobody at the table would blink. 

The Brushy Creek Regional Trail came a couple of years after that conversation, and today it’s still evolving. I don’t say that as a victory. I say it because it’s true, and because it makes the point better than any argument I could build. Nothing about the creek changed. We did. 

Which leaves me with a harder thought, if the worth of that creek was real long before we had the words to defend it, then there is almost certainly something we undervalue right now for the very same reason. Something already doing quiet work for our communities that we haven’t yet learned to measure, or even to name. I don’t know what it is. That’s the point. He couldn’t see the full worth of the creek, and I’m not at all sure I can see whatever the creek is now. 

A hopeful lesson

So I try to hold my certainty a little more loosely than I once did. 

The parks never changed. The creek corridor was worth exactly what it was worth on the afternoon I first brought it up. What changed was us. We learned, slowly and usually the hard way, to recognize what these places had been giving us all along. When I sit with that, it strikes me as a hopeful thing. It means a community is capable of understanding more than it once did. It means the next generation will inherit a wider idea of value than we did and will hand down a wider one still. 

Nothing changed. We did. 

Tim Bargainer has spent over thirty years working with communities as a planner and landscape architect. These essays are his attempt to think out loud about how we come to understand the value of the places we share.  You can find more of Tim’s essays here Tim Bargainer | Substack

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Project Spotlight: Elizabeth Morse Genius Children’s Garden

07/14/2026 Project Spotlight Tagged Under: Landscape Architecture, Planning, Public Places

Creating lifelong connections with nature through immersive play at the historic Garfield Park Conservatory

For more than a century, the Garfield Park Conservatory has provided Chicago residents with a place to experience nature, regardless of the season. In an urban neighborhood with limited access to green space, the Conservatory serves as an urban oasis and beloved community resource, welcoming visitors year-round to explore and learn.

For children, the most meaningful connections with nature often come through experience, not just observation. Building on that mission, the Elizabeth Morse Genius Children’s Garden blends environmental education, inclusive play, and immersive storytelling in an indoor play environment that invites children and families to engage with nature firsthand. 

Housed within the Garfield Park Conservatory’s century-old glass exterior, among acres of exotic botanical environments, the Children’s Garden challenged our designers to balance delicate architectural preservation with universal accessibility, all while accounting for tropical climate conditions in the heart of the Midwest.

Environmental learning through play 

When children and families arrive at the Garden, they’re welcomed into a vibrant world of discovery and movement. More than just a playground, the experience reimagines the Conservatory through the eyes of a child, where climbing, exploring, creating, and imagining become pathways to learning about the natural world.

Learning came first. Before designing the play elements, before navigating the challenges of building within a historic glass structure, the RVi team worked alongside the Conservatory’s education staff to define a set of educational objectives for every garden room that visitors would encounter, and then create the experiences through active play, sensory exploration, art, and interpretive, interactive exhibits.

“We had to think about what we wanted kids to learn, and that helped us frame the experiences for each space,” says Lacey Lawrence, Director at RVi.

The resulting play experiences were woven into a plant palette created by RVi and sourced from across the U.S., creating learning opportunities that felt inseparable from the surrounding gardens.

Visitors learn about plant roots, ecosystems, soil types, and insects by digging in soil, examining underground cross-sections, and crawling through an underground tunnel in the Beneath the Surface area. The Curiosity Canopy invites children to gain an elevated view of the Conservatory gardens by climbing a net structure 20 feet in the air and engaging with others. The Understory section encourages gross motor skills while teaching about the movement of vines and plant support systems with a spiral caterpillar slide and a pitcher plant perch. For quieter moments, the Arbor Alcove provides a calming space where children can recharge before continuing their exploration.

Nature-inspired play elements complement the botanical surroundings and blur the line between play environment and conservatory, where oversized fungi, fallen logs, giant leaves, and custom play structures like the “High-biscus Climber”—modeled after the hibiscus flower—connect children and families with the landscape.

These are just a few examples of more than 30 individual learning objectives and play activities spread across six separate garden rooms and organized around a central Base Camp Explorer theme. The journey begins the moment visitors set foot in the Children’s Garden, equipped with maps and tools for the adventure. And with free, year-round access to the tropical environments you wouldn’t typically find in Chicago, the journey and learning can continue indefinitely.

Building within a living landmark

Originally constructed in 1908, the Garfield Park Conservatory is an iconic Chicago landmark designed by renowned landscape architect Jens Jensen. As one of the largest and most recognizable conservatories in the nation, it pioneered Jensen’s vision of “landscape art under glass.”

Today, it stands as a beloved community destination, providing year-round access to more than two acres of tropical indoor gardens. With a glass canopy reaching 65 feet at its peak, designing play environments within the dense gardens presented unique challenges to the RVi team. And building it within a historic, glass-paneled structure added a new layer of complexity.

“Working inside a living historic landmark is very different than designing a typical park or playground,” says Lawrence. “We had to think beyond the play environment itself and consider how every decision would affect the building, the gardens, and the visitor experience.”

Typical demolition methods weren’t an option. “We couldn’t touch the building at all, and historic buildings weren’t designed for modern construction equipment, so we had to get creative,” Lawrence explains. In addition to protecting the building, this meant preserving the delicate plant life within the Conservatory. With construction occurring through winter in Chicago, exposure to the harsh temperatures could have been catastrophic.

To access the interior, the team built a temperature-controlled enclosure for staging, while crews carefully navigated the space constraints of the landmark structure.

In addition to its impacts on construction methods, the high-humidity climate meant designing an indoor play environment to outdoor specifications. The moisture can accelerate degradation and create slippery, unsafe play surfaces for children.

“We essentially had to design for the outdoors, indoors,” explains Lawrence.

This required careful selection of materials, finishes, and hardware that could withstand constant moisture, resist corrosion, and provide safe footing for children in a tropical environment. Every detail was evaluated for long-term durability while remaining visually consistent with the Conservatory’s lush, historic setting.

Designed for every child 

Garfield Park represents a historically underserved community where continued investment in public spaces and community amenities plays an important role in supporting residents and families. With growing research demonstrating that access to nature supports physical, psychological, and social well-being, the Conservatory offers free admission 365 days a year for Chicago residents, providing a place where families can connect with nature and one another.

The Conservatory believes that access to nature is a fundamental right. The Children’s Garden furthers this mission by engaging the younger generations through accessible, inclusive, and culturally relevant play experiences. It offers opportunities for children of all cognitive, sensory, and physical abilities to explore, learn, and discover together, ensuring every family can participate in the wonder of the Conservatory.

“It was important to the Conservatory to be leaders in inclusive nature-based play,” said Lawrence. “Every component of the space considered accessibility. Our goal was to create a place where every child feels welcome.” A dedicated sensory-friendly area and wheelchair-accessible spiral ramp are among the most visible features, but inclusive design decisions are woven throughout the facility—from the colors and fonts on signage to the layout of pathways, play opportunities, and seating areas that support a wide range of physical, cognitive, and sensory needs.

Inspiring lifelong connection with nature 

The Elizabeth Morse Children’s Garden at the Garfield Park Conservatory opened its doors to the public in May 2026.

“It’s so rewarding to see the smiles, hear the laughter, and watch families make the space their own,” says Lawrence. “When you spend years designing something like this, you hope it resonates. Seeing the Conservatory’s vision come to life—and the community embracing it—is what makes the project so meaningful.”

Every child who climbs into the canopy, discovers an unfamiliar plant, or simply spends an afternoon immersed in nature leaves with something more valuable than a memory. They leave with a relationship to the natural world. And for many families, that’s exactly where lifelong curiosity begins.

Photography: Scott Hargis Photography www.scotthargisphoto.com
Blog

Employee Spotlight: Director of Parks + Recreation Lacey Lawrence on her passion for creating meaningful parks and public places

07/10/2026 People Tagged Under: Landscape Architecture, Public Places

In celebration of National Park and Recreation Month, this month’s Employee Spotlight features RVi’s Director of Parks + Recreation, Lacey Lawrence, who is based in our Naperville, Illinois office. In this Q&A, Lacey shares her passion for creating parks and public spaces that connect people, strengthen communities, and inspire a lifelong appreciation for the natural world.

With more than 20 years of experience planning parks, trails, and recreation spaces, Lacey combines collaboration, environmental stewardship, and technical expertise to create places where people and nature thrive together.

What first inspired you to pursue a career in landscape architecture, and what drew you specifically to parks, recreation, and environmental planning?

I’ve always loved being outdoors—hiking, camping, kayaking—and I also had a creative side that loved drawing and design. I explored a variety of career paths before starting college in Forestry and working as a Natural Resource Specialist with the Michigan Department of Environmental Quality. While I enjoyed the environmental focus, I realized I wanted a career that combined nature, creativity, engineering, and design. An academic advisor suggested landscape architecture, and it immediately clicked. It brought together everything I was passionate about and ultimately led me to parks, recreation, and environmental planning, where I can help connect communities with nature through thoughtful design. 

Exploring the outdoors with her family reminds Lacey why creating parks and public spaces that connect people with nature is so meaningful.

Looking back on your career, was there a particular project, mentor, or experience that confirmed you had chosen the right profession?

The experience that had the biggest impact on me was participating in my university’s study abroad program. Spending nine weeks traveling through Europe and studying iconic landscape architecture expanded my world and perspective immensely. But what stayed with me most wasn’t just the landscapes, it was experiencing different cultures and their ways of life.

Seeing how different countries design and care for their public spaces, while also experiencing their history, traditions, and daily life, gave me a much deeper appreciation for the connection between people and place. It sparked a lifelong love of travel and learning, and it continues to influence how I approach design today. It reminded me that every community has its own unique story, and great landscapes should reflect and celebrate that identity.

National Park and Recreation Month celebrates the spaces that bring communities together. In your view, what makes a park or public space truly successful?

A successful park/public space is one that becomes part of people’s everyday lives. It’s a place where children create memories, neighbors gather, families celebrate milestones, and individuals find moments of respite. You know a park is successful when it feels like it belongs to the community, when people return time and again, because it has become part of their routine and identity. The best parks/public spaces aren’t defined by their amenities or iconic design; they’re defined by the experiences and memories they help create.

Leo Creek Preserve, an outdoor learning laboratory, nature preserve and botanical garden in Suttons Bay, Michigan continues to inspire the way Lacey approaches design

What is one park, trail, or recreation project you’ve worked on that had a particularly meaningful impact on the surrounding community?

One project that stands out is the Elizabeth Morse Genius Children’s Garden at the Garfield Park Conservatory in Chicago. Its vision was to create one of the country’s most inclusive nature-based spaces that gave children and families of all backgrounds and abilities a place to connect with nature, play, learn, and feel a true sense of belonging.

Working within a historic conservatory presented unique design challenges—from the tropical plant palette to constructing everything under glass—but it was also an incredible opportunity to grow as a landscape architect. Extensive community engagement and strong public-private partnerships shaped every aspect of the project, and our role was to translate that shared vision into an inspiring design.

Seeing the garden come to life reinforced for me that the most successful park projects are built through collaboration. When community voices, strong partnerships, and thoughtful design come together, the result is a place that will serve and inspire people for generations.

For Lacey, the Elizabeth Morse Genius Children’s Garden embodies what great park design is all about.

What role do you believe parks and natural areas play in helping communities become more resilient in the future?

Parks are some of our most valuable community infrastructures. Beyond recreation, they help manage stormwater, reduce urban heat, support biodiversity, improve public health, and provide gathering spaces during times of need. As communities face changing climate conditions, thoughtfully designed parks will continue to play an increasingly important role in both environmental and social resilience.

You’ve worked on everything from native landscape restoration to riverfront master plans and green infrastructure projects. How have you seen communities’ priorities around sustainability evolve over the years?

Early in my career, sustainability was often viewed as an added benefit. Today, it’s become the baseline expectation, and increasingly, communities are looking for landscapes that go beyond sustainability to be net positive and give back to the environment. There is a growing emphasis on solutions that address stormwater, habitat restoration, resilience, and long-term maintenance while still creating beautiful, functional public spaces. There’s also a much greater appreciation for native landscapes, not only because they’re environmentally beneficial, but because they create a stronger sense of place.

As Director of Parks + Recreation, what do you enjoy most about leading teams and helping shape projects across the country?

One of the most rewarding parts of my role is mentoring others and helping them grow in their careers. I enjoy bringing together talented people with different perspectives and watching those ideas evolve into stronger solutions than any one person could develop alone. Seeing younger designers build confidence and take ownership of projects is incredibly fulfilling.

Lacey and project partners accept recognition from the Wisconsin Park & Recreation Association

What advice do you often give younger landscape architects who are interested in pursuing a career in parks, recreation, or environmental design?

Stay curious and never stop learning. Some of the best ideas come from experiences outside of landscape architecture, such as traveling, volunteering, visiting parks, studying ecology, or simply observing how people use public spaces. Also, spend as much time listening as designing. Great projects begin with understanding people, places, and the stories that make each community unique.

When you’re not working, how do you personally enjoy spending time outdoors?

One of my favorite places to spend time outdoors is our own backyard. We’re fortunate to have several mature oak trees, and we’ve intentionally designed the landscape with native plants that support a diverse ecosystem of insects, birds, pollinators, and other wildlife. It’s incredibly rewarding to see the landscape come to life throughout the seasons.

As a family, we also enjoy traveling to national parks, forests, and rivers to hike, explore, and experience nature together. Sharing those adventures with my husband and our two children is one of my favorite ways to recharge and reminds me why creating memorable outdoor spaces is so important.

Some of life’s best moments happen outdoors. Adventures like these with Lacey’s family continue to shape her passion for creating places where others can experience the same connection to nature.

What is one lesson that nature has taught you, that you apply to your work every day?

Nature has taught me that resilience isn’t about resisting change; it’s about adapting to it. Ecosystems are constantly evolving, responding to new conditions, finding new pathways, and rebalancing themselves to thrive. I think that’s a valuable lesson, both personally and professionally. In a world that’s always changing, I’ve learned the importance of staying curious, being adaptable, and looking for creative solutions rather than trying to force things to stay the same.

What trends or opportunities are you most excited about in the future of parks and recreation?

I’m excited to see parks being recognized as essential community infrastructure rather than simply amenities. They’re expected to support public health, strengthen communities, improve environmental resilience, manage stormwater, and preserve habitat, all while creating memorable places for people to gather and connect.

What excites me most is the growing focus on nature-positive, regenerative design. Instead of simply minimizing our impact, we have an opportunity to restore ecosystems, improve biodiversity, enhance water quality, and leave the land healthier than we found it. I also appreciate that communities are placing greater value on restoring native landscapes and creating authentic places that reflect their local history, ecology, and identity.

I think the future of parks is designing spaces that not only serve people but also actively regenerate the environment. That’s an exciting challenge and one I’m eager to be part of.

If there is one thing you hope people take away from the parks and places you help create, what would it be?

I hope they feel like they belong and that they have fun. Parks should spark curiosity, encourage play, inspire discovery, and create moments of joy. Those experiences are often what build lifelong connections to nature. Whether they’re making memories with family, finding a quiet place to reflect, exploring with their children, or simply spending time outdoors, I hope the spaces become places they return to throughout their lives. If a park becomes part of someone’s story, then I feel we’ve done our job well.

Lacey joins community leaders and project partners at the groundbreaking for Deerpath Community Park in Lake Forest, Illinois.
Blog

Why the best destination resorts let the land inform the design  

06/30/2026 Voice Tagged Under: Hospitality + Entertainment, Land Planning, Landscape Architecture, Planning

By RVI’s Alex Fenech, ASLA, Vice President, Coral Springs, Florida and Brett Allen Park, Vice President, Costa Mesa, California

RVi’s Vice Presidents, Alex Fenech, FASLA, and Brett Allen Park have more than four decades of experience shaping hospitality destinations worldwide. Their work has ranged from luxury resorts and branded residences to destination entertainment districts, theme parks, waterfront developments, and projects for some of the world’s most recognizable hospitality brands, including Marriott, The EDITION Hotel West Hollywood, Rosewood, Sheraton, Hilton, and Disney. Through these experiences, they have learned a simple but often overlooked truth: the most authentic and enduring destinations emerge when developers allow the land to lead the vision. 

Hospitality developers are not simply creating buildings. They are creating memories, emotions, and experiences that guests will carry with them long after they leave. 

That responsibility becomes even more complex when a project is located in an environmentally sensitive area. Whether along a vulnerable coastline, within a wetland system, near critical wildlife habitat, or in a water-constrained environment, developers often face a familiar question: How do we overcome the site’s constraints? 

In our experience, that question often leads projects in the wrong direction. 

Between us, we have spent more than four decades planning and designing hospitality destinations across North America, the Caribbean, the Middle East, Asia, and Australia. Our work has included luxury resorts, branded residences, convention destinations, theme parks, golf communities, and mixed-use hospitality environments for some of the world’s most recognized brands and operators. Across that work, one lesson has remained constant: the most memorable destinations are not imposed upon the land. They are discovered through it. 

The hospitality industry is experiencing a fundamental shift. Guests increasingly seek authentic, place-based experiences. Investors are prioritizing long-term resilience. Operators are demanding higher performance standards. At the same time, environmental systems are becoming increasingly important to permitting, financing, operations, and long-term asset value. 

We believe the environment is often our greatest opportunity. When resilience, ecology, guest experience, and operational performance are considered together from the beginning, developers can create destinations that are more authentic, more memorable, and ultimately more valuable.

This snorkel lagoon showcases the Bahamas’ natural beauty, where protected coastal ecosystems create unforgettable experiences both above and below the waterline.

Let the land inform the design  

Every site tells a story. 

Too often, hospitality projects begin with room counts, density targets, parking requirements, arrival sequences, and predetermined programming. The design team is then tasked with fitting those elements onto the site as efficiently as possible. 

We believe the process should work in reverse. 

The most successful destinations begin by understanding the environmental systems that make a place unique. Climate, topography, hydrology, vegetation, wildlife, viewsheds, cultural history, and ecological relationships should inform the design from the outset.

Some of the most meaningful lessons we have learned have come from projects where environmental conditions have fundamentally changed the development approach. Wetlands altered circulation patterns. Wildlife corridors influenced where development could occur. Shoreline conditions reshaped programming decisions. Natural view corridors dictated the placement of guest amenities. 

In nearly every case, the final outcome was stronger because of those constraints, not despite them. 

The hospitality industry often speaks about creating a sense of place, yet many destinations still begin with a generic development formula and attempt to adapt it to the site. That approach frequently results in experiences that feel interchangeable.

The projects that stand apart are those that embrace their environmental context.

Sea turtle nesting beaches remind us that protecting natural systems preserves experiences and ecological processes that cannot be recreated once they’re lost.

Great guest experiences are rooted in environmental authenticity

Hospitality is fundamentally different from other forms of development. 

A guest does not choose a destination because it has the most efficient parking lot or the highest density. They choose it because of how it makes them feel. 

The most successful hospitality brands understand this. Whether working with luxury operators, branded residences, boutique hotels, or destination resorts, we consistently see one common expectation: create an experience that guests cannot find anywhere else. 

Today’s travelers are increasingly seeking immersion, authenticity, and connection to nature. They want experiences that feel rooted in place. They want to discover something unique, not something replicated. 

That might mean observing turtle nesting activity along a protected shoreline. It could mean experiencing a dark sky free from light pollution. It may be a boardwalk through a mangrove ecosystem, views across preserved wetlands, or the sounds of native wildlife rather than mechanical equipment. 

These environmental conditions are often treated as development limitations. In reality, they frequently become a destination’s most valuable amenities.

At RVi, we spend significant time thinking about how guest experiences, operational performance, and environmental stewardship intersect. Successful hospitality design requires more than beautiful spaces. It requires careful consideration of arrival sequences, pedestrian circulation, service access, maintenance operations, outdoor programming, wellness experiences, food and beverage environments, and brand expectations. 

When done successfully, guests leave with memories that could only have been created in that location. Those memories become the foundation of a destination’s identity and long-term success. 

Resilience, ecology, and business performance are no longer separate conversations 

For years, resilience was something we talked about primarily in terms of risk. It meant protecting property from storms, flooding, or other environmental threats. While those concerns remain important, we’ve come to see resilience as something much bigger. Today, it influences permitting, insurance, operations, guest expectations, and ultimately the long-term value of a destination.

While much of our work focuses on hospitality destinations, some of the strongest examples of these planning principles can be found in master-planned communities. Resort amenities, clubhouses, waterfront experiences, trail systems, wellness spaces, and gathering places are often woven into larger communities, making the lessons learned from community planning directly applicable to destination development. 

Our colleagues Alexis Crespo, Vice President of Planning, and Sabrina McCabe, Director of Landscape Architecture in RVi’s Bonita Springs office have helped shape many of these planning principles through projects like Babcock Ranch and Silverstrand in Southwest Florida, bringing a deep understanding of how environmental systems can create stronger communities. Their work demonstrates that sustainability begins long before the first building is designed. It starts with understanding how a site naturally functions and allowing those systems to guide planning decisions from day one. 

Although Babcock Ranch is a master-planned community rather than a hospitality destination, its planning approach offers valuable lessons for any project rooted in environmentally sensitive land. Instead of forcing the landscape to fit a development program, the planning team allowed the site’s natural systems to shape the community. Wetlands, drainage patterns, wildlife habitat, and open space became the framework for development—not constraints to overcome. 

Babcock Ranch demonstrated the value of that approach during Hurricane Ian. While many surrounding communities experienced widespread flooding and prolonged power outages, the town remained largely operational because years of thoughtful planning respected the site’s natural hydrology, preserved its environmental systems, and invested in resilient infrastructure from the outset. It serves as a powerful reminder that resilience isn’t achieved through a single design feature—it’s the cumulative result of hundreds of planning decisions made with the land, not against it. 

That same philosophy is evident at Silverstrand, an 800-acre master-planned community in northeast Lee County. Under Alexis’ planning leadership, the team implemented a density incentive strategy that clustered development in exchange for restoring former agricultural land with native Florida vegetation. More than 60 percent of the site was permanently conserved, including over 300 acres of restored upland habitat strategically located to reconnect wetland systems and buffer neighboring rural properties. Working alongside Alexis, Sabrina’s landscape architecture expertise helped transform those conservation areas into ecological assets that strengthened the community’s identity while enhancing long-term environmental performance.

When ecological systems become part of the design rather than something the design works around, resilience, guest experience, operational performance, and long-term value reinforce one another. That’s the kind of planning we believe will define the next generation of destination development. 

Babcock Ranch illustrates how thoughtful planning can work with natural systems, creating a community where resilient infrastructure, native landscapes, and everyday experiences are shaped by the land.

The most memorable destinations are shaped by the land itself  

If there is one lesson our experience has reinforced, it’s that the most memorable destinations are often the ones shaped by the character of the land itself. Environmental systems are opportunities to create places with a stronger sense of identity, deeper connections to nature, and experiences that simply couldn’t exist anywhere else.  

Whether we’re planning a luxury resort, a branded residential community, a convention destination, or an amenity-rich master-planned community, our approach remains the same. Every site has its own story, shaped by its ecology, history, and natural systems. Our role as designers (and planners) is to understand those qualities and translate them into places that enrich the guest experience, support long-term operations, and remain resilient for generations.  

Hospitality is ultimately about creating places people remember. In our experience, the destinations that leave the greatest impression are those that celebrate the character of the land, creating experiences that feel authentic, enduring, and uniquely connected to their surroundings.