Cities are among the best locations to look for nature. Every city’s natural environment contributes to its form and function. Although cities are often very urbanized, a keen-eyed observer can find evidence of nature everywhere in a city. Even a city like Boston, MA, one of the earliest European settlements in the New World, and made up of largely reclaimed land, has these indicators. In her seminal work, The Granite Garden, Spirn describes nature in the urban environment as “far more than trees and gardens, and weeks in sidewalk cracks and vacant lots. It is the air we breathe, the earth we stand on, the water we drink, and the organisms with which we share our habitat” (4). I chose to look at a southernly portion of Boston’s famed Fenway neighborhood. The site has a roughly trapezoidal shape, bounded by Park Drive and the Emerald Necklace on the Southwest, Brookline Avenue on the Northwest, Kilmarnock Steet on the East, and Queensbury Street on the South (Figure 1). The interaction between the natural processes of water, sunlight, and climate with the architecture and infrastructure of the site is evidenced by the flow of storm water, and differences in microclimates and air quality.

This site’s natural water processes are heavily influenced by Boston’s Emerald Necklace, since the site is immediately adjacent to it (Figure 2). Boston’s Emerald Necklace was conceived by Fredrick Law Olmstead as a solution to the water management issues afflicting the Back Bay and Boston. The first was the overuse of Boston’s combined sewer and storm water drainage system since the Back Bay had been filled. The second issue was ecological destruction – although the Muddy River had never been a natural marvel, it was being threatened out of existence by development. Figure 3 details the whole proposal, of which the area in Figure 2 is highlighted. Olmstead designed the Emerald Necklace as a natural water treatment and containment method. Olmstead first sought to expand the drainage basin of the river. His plans called for the river to be dredged, both to accommodate its increased flow rate as well as to use gravity as a natural drainage mechanism from the surrounding areas. Once water had entered the park, it would filter through the soil and rocks, either being absorbed by the plants and the water table, or being pulled into the river.

The site’s water management strategy takes advantage of the Emerald Necklace’s robust water handling and proximity. The site itself is built on a slight, smooth grade, the lowest elevation meeting Park Drive, in order to naturally drain water into the Necklace. This grade is man made, as this site is all reclaimed land, filled in when the rest of the Back Bay was being filled (Figure 4). I observed this process in action as snow melted from the streets and entered the park soil via a top layer of rocks (Figure 5). More than a century after its creation, the topography, the Park, and the work of the area’s planners still serves its purpose effectively. It’s a testament to the power of natural processes – the equivalent ‘gray infrastructure’ solutions would have required replacement at this age.

The site also contains Ramler Park, a small neighborhood park that employs an innovative water management strategy. Most developed land in the area is covered by impermeable surfaces – concrete and asphalt. This is like stretching a plastic membrane over the surfaces below it, disallowing the natural diffusion of water into the ground. This style of construction places additional pressure on the water systems of the city, especially during storms, when sewage is often released untreated because of over-capacity. The Granite Garden mentions how a number of American cities have employed natural storm water storage techniques – most notably Denver, Colorado, as well as the Fens in Boston to much success (Spirn, 148). However, Ramler Park’s approach is different; instead of simply delaying the treatment and release of the storm water, the park employs a fine rock or gravel surface instead of concrete walkways to allow the storm water to permeate through the ground.

When I visited the park, I noticed a sign the park association had left, telling the maintenance crews not to shovel the snow in the park, since the park can naturally handle this precipitation. As Spirn notes, this approach is growing in popularity across American and European cities (150). The snow and the ground were clean, unlike traditional street sewer drainage as is implemented on Boylston Street (Figure 6). The rest of the park is covered in grass, plants, and trees, and the increased availability of groundwater has allowed the plants and trees to mature well compared to the ‘potted trees’ seen in other areas of South Fenway.

South Fenway takes a holistic approach to water management, using nearby infrastructure, building green solutions within the community, and combining it with traditional gray infrastructure for extreme cases. The site’s success sets an example for other urbanized areas – and shows small improvements as part of a comprehensive plan can make a substantial difference. This type of approach is finally taking root in major American metros – The Philadelphia Water Department has funded a plan to build citywide “green stormwater infrastructure” – and promises substantial savings and a positive environmental impact (“Green Stormwater Infrastructure”).

This site is truly an exemplification of planners working with the constraints and advantages of nature. Spirn, in The Granite Garden, imagines “what the city could be like if designed in concert with natural processes, rather than in ignorance of them or in outright opposition” (xi). The site works symbiotically with the Fens, drawing from it it’s clean air, open space, and gentle, fresh breezes, and gives it back its used water. It provides recreation and beauty in relief to the rest of the area’s dense construction. The park-like ambiance to the quiet residential streets is brought on in no small part by this microclimate.

I noticed this even before I arrived to the site. I was walking on Boylston Street to reach the site – it was loud with the sounds of cars and trucks and filled with exhaust fumes despite the trees planted along its length. The air seemed stagnant, even though the road itself was built in the wide boulevard-style. By the time Boylston Street was within two blocks of the Fens, I noticed a slightly stronger breeze of fresh air coming from the direction of the Fens. Spirn noticed this effect in The Granite Garden, finding that when “the urban heat island is most pronounced, it initiates a centripetal pattern of air flow from the cooler outskirts … to the center” (65). The Necklace, free of development, is a relief to the heat island and contributes to the cool breeze.

The benefits of the Fens go beyond improvements in the air quality and water management. A major problem in American cities is noise pollution. Because of the densely built up lots made of hard materials, such as concrete, brick, steel, or iron, sound created by any source, whether it is a car, a set of speakers, industrial equipment, or even a washer and dryer, can bounce off the building. Since the buildings are generally built to a consistent offset, every street becomes an urban canyon. Sounds generated anywhere on a block then reverb from building to building on each side, propagating down the street. It is only when an intersection is reached do the sounds have some space to dissipate – and loud sounds will often carry on for blocks. The neighborhood’s Laundromat’s exhaust noises carried along the street that ran parallel to the parks, separated by buildings.

Since the site is open on one side to the Fens, the sound is able to quickly dissipate over Park Drive and into the Fens, quickly becoming muffled. The soft ground and the extensive vegetation are apt at absorbing sounds. It is akin to a natural noise barrier – the same reason why trees are often planted along highways to reduce noise. This noise barrier also prevents many external sounds from entering the site as well, giving the side streets like Peterborough Street a truly quiet, residential experience in an otherwise very urbanized location – greatly enhancing its appeal.

The benefits to reducing noise pollution go beyond increasing appeal. Excessive environmental noise has harmful physical and psychological effects. Prolonged exposure to noise can result in high blood pressure and increased stress, along with disturbed sleep, as Rosin and Olin found (236). Usually, urban noise comes from machines and transportation, a major concern in Boston due to its nearby airport and high rate of car use. In the South Fenway site, nature interacts with the urban environment to provide a more aesthetic and healthy experience for the residents.

American urban planners of the 19th and 20th centuries looked to mega parks like New York City’s Central Park or Chicago’s Grant Park to provide an improvement in quality of life. Spirn notes that these “large landscaped parks in the inner city … are disappearing or in decline, victims of slashed municipal budgets and easy prey to public building programs in search of open land” (60). But its apparent from South Fenway that smaller parks, here the segment of the Fens and Ramler Park have a lot to offer American cities, and may actually be a more economical and scalable way of delivering the many benefits of parks, including noise reduction.

South Fenway highly urbanized structure allows for little plant life beyond the parks and gardens. The planned-for plant life is limited almost entirely to trees along the sidewalks and grass and shrubs in the small yards in front of residences, a “function of land use and fashions rather than natural processes,” as Spirn describes it (179). Unfortunately, the environment is otherwise so hostile to growth that other wild plant life is mostly limited to grass growing in sidewalk cracks and parking lot breaks – so trees remain the main form of plant life, even as they struggle to survive.

Along the residential streets, there are trees planted roughly every 60 feet. These trees vary in age and maturity – on one street, I observed newly planted trees on one side of the street, and mature trees on the other side (Figure 7). This is most likely because the newly planted tree replaced an older tree that died, possibly because of a lack of nutrients and water. The two contributing factors to this situation are the water management techniques, which seek to quickly move water away, instead of allowing permeation into the soil, and the building and road construction techniques, which cover the land completely with non-permeable materials. As a result, these trees often die out, or otherwise adapt to this desert like condition, as described in The Granite Garden, where the roots reach for the surface in order to obtain water, nutrients, and air (Spirn 178). These roots are then exposed to direct physical damage, from bikes, pedestrians, and cars. One notable tree on site grew its roots under the sidewalk to the adjacent garden’s surface, in addition to exposing its roots at the trunk (Figure 8). This largely symbolize nature’s struggle with the urban environment; even if the individual tree or plant is unable to survive, nature is tenacious enough to continue to attempt to retake the environment.

Other trees on the site existed long before the plot was converted to its current use. This site was developed before the emergence of the automobile, and long before its ubiquity in the urban environment. As economic forces have shifted, several lots were converted into parking lots, but oftentimes the trees that lined the homes were kept – for decorative purposes, or sometimes to demarcate a property line. Figure 9 shows a parking lot that retained the trees, but paved over the base of the tree entirely. The trees appear unhealthy, unable to absorb enough water to continue their growth. They have pushed up the ground around them, searching for more water. The lot owners have drawn the parking lines directly onto the tree, likely using spray paint with unhealthy chemicals.

The government’s poor handling of plant life integration into this portion of Boston negatively affects this site. Not only does it reduce the quality of life, but it has broader environmental impacts as well. Cities will find it hard to meet their goals for sustainability and quality of life if they continue to separate “nature” into parks and “everything else” into the urbanized areas. There must be more fluidity between these types of spaces – people need to be in parks, among nature, and nature needs to be part of the urban fabric. The distinctly 20th century view of using plant life as decoration must go. Instead, planners and landscape architects must work with the constraints and advantages of the natural world, just as Spirn suggests (185).

Encompassing both an upscale residential area and the confluence of several major commercial streets, South Fenway has done a remarkable job addressing and finding harmony with natural processes. Its water management systems sets an example for other neighborhoods to follow; its use of parks to create comfortable microclimates is noteworthy; its control over noise pollution via its layout and parkland improves quality of life. Unfortunately, it still follows 19th century practices in integrating plant life. For its residents, it offers a wholesome urban experience because of its proximity to the core of Boston. The neighborhood has reached a stable point in its relationship with nature. Each side pushes back against each other, dynamic on the scale of plants and people, and steady at the scale of natural processes. It offers many lessons to both the growing and shrinking metropolises across the country.

Figure 2. The location of South Fenway in this 1887 site proposal from Olmstead Landscape Architects via the Boston Public Library Government Document Archives (“Plan of Portion of Park System from Common To Franklin Park”). Note that this map details the site before the street grid was completed.

Figure 3. Overall plan for the Emerald Necklace, from Olmstead Landscape Architects via the National Parks Service Olmstead Archives (“Map of the Back Bay Fens”). Highlighted is the location of the site, adjacent to the Back Bay Fens.

Figure 4. Location of the site, overlaid on a map of Boston’s original landmass. The site was part of the early reclaiming of land from when the Back Bay was filled. From the United States Census Bureau, via Wikipedia (Waring, 1880).

Figure 5. Melted snow entering the Necklace from the streets naturally, because of the man-made grade on the site.

Figure 6. Left, is Ramler Park’s fine rock walkways, and a sign informing maintenance crews not to shovel the park. Right is Boylston Street, following a traditional street drainage pattern, full of dirt and standing water.

Figure 7. A newly planted tree in the foreground, a mature tree on the other side of the street. Both trees receive adequate sunlight.

Figure 8. Tree with exposed roots at the base of the trunk, and roots that grown under the sidewalk to the adjacent garden (see arrow). Indicates lack of nutrition, water, and poor soil quality.

Figure 9. Trees in a parking lot, with parking lines painted onto them. No source of water, since their base has been paved entirely, and has a concrete wall on one side.

“Green Stormwater Infrastructure.” Philadelphia Water Department. City of Philadelphia, 2014. Web 8 March 2014. http://www.phillywatersheds.org/what_were_doing/green_infrastructure

Olmstead Landscape Architects, Plan of Portion of Park System from Common To Franklin Park. 1 January 1894. Map. National Park Service Olmstead Archives, Brookline, MA. Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Web. 8 March 2014. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Olmsted_historic_map_Boston.png

Olmstead Landscape Architects, Map of the Back Bay Fens. 1887. Map. Boston Public Library Government Document Archive, Boston, MA. Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Web. 8 March 2014. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:BackBayFens1887Plan.png

“Ramler Park, Boston, MA.” Map. Google Maps. Google, 21 Feburary 2014. Online Map, 21 February 2014. https://www.google.com/maps/place/Ramler+Park/@42.3425783,-71.1007777,17z/

Rosen, S. and Olin, P. “Hearing Loss and Coronary Heart Disease.” Archives of Otolaryngology, 82:236. Print.

Spirn, Anne W. The Granite Garden: Urban Nature And Human Design. New York: Basic, 1984. Print.

Waring, George E., Boston in 1880. Showing Areas and Dates of Annexations of Territory. 1880. Map. United States Census Office, Washington, D.C. Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Web. 8 March 2014. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Boston_annexations_1880.jpg