The fact that we must now envision the future of parks and gardens as spaces that use less water for irrigation represents a major shift in the public imagination of what we currently consider a garden or park, and in the aesthetic ideal that nature is only beautiful when it’s lush, exuberant, green, and often tropical.

It’s a notion that can be surprising, especially considering there are landscapes that move us far more than four swaying palm trees on a Caribbean beach, particularly when we live in a country with such diverse and inspiring natural scenery. A tropical forest may sound exotic, but if some people already hesitate to walk through tall grass for fear of silent vipers lying in wait to bite their ankles… imagine them in a true tropical forest (I’ve never seen trees and palms with such enormous thorns in my life).

Landscape architecture has a unique ability to create value for all stakeholders and to shift how people view the development of new housing, but it must be considered from the very beginning of a project.

Nature is whimsical. Gardens are often devilishly hard to maintain. And the worse they are designed, the more headaches they bring over the years. If we also consider that we can no longer keep fertilizing and watering irresponsibly just to keep everything lush, we’ll need to develop new strategies, strategies that make gardens strong and beautiful through careful plant selection and rigorous training, highlighting their best traits so they can thrive for years.

Just look at the dehesas, the olive groves, the national parks… I’m amazed every time I pass near Doñana or drive through the winding roads that lead to almost any part of the Spanish coast, mountains, or countryside. Much of the vegetation is green in summer, latent, yes, but alive. And come spring, it’s stunning and in full bloom. These landscapes survive on nothing but the water that falls from the sky and the soil that sustains them.

I truly believe, and I’m certain of this, that we can find a middle ground.