New York City Is Renowned for Its Grandeur. Its Newest Attraction Is Miniature.

On a Saturday morning in April, several hundred individuals have gathered at the southern tip of Roosevelt Island, a two-mile stretch of land just east of Manhattan. This island offers the unique experience of being part of the city while providing a tranquil escape. Visitors can stroll through a park dedicated to Franklin D. Roosevelt or enjoy caviar nachos at the elegant Graduate Hotel. They can also explore the ruins of the smallpox hospital, a decaying reminder of when the island was known for its institutions rather than its picturesque views of the East River and the United Nations.

Now, guests can also explore a forest—a “pocket forest,” to be specific.

This small patch of land, just larger than a tennis court, is home to nearly 1,500 plants representing 47 native species, including oaks, hemlocks, beach plums, and shagbark hickories. This marks the first of its kind in New York City and the 200th globally from SUGi, a worldwide forest-building organization based in London. (Antarctica is the only continent without a SUGi project.) Established in 2019 and named after a Japanese cedar, SUGi aims to “green cities and reimagine urban living” by planting miniature forests that enhance biodiversity, strengthen communities, and promote climate resilience.

This vision is articulated by SUGi founder and CEO Elise Van Middelem on this vibrant spring morning, with the Manhattan skyline as her backdrop. She is joined by several speakers, including Christina Delfico, founder of iDig2Learn, a key collaborator on the project that connects families and children to nature. The speakers warmly welcome us to the island and outline the tasks ahead. We’ll be planting on a designated plot in Southpoint Park, chosen for its proximity to the East River (the forest will assist in mitigating rainwater runoff) and its accessibility for the public.

Once the forest matures, visitors won’t find much to do besides revel in its vibrant beauty and monitor its growth over the years. Nevertheless, pocket forests are unique urban retreats worth experiencing. They are intentionally wild, dense, and unrefined, often situated in neglected areas and showcasing native plants that thrived before urban development. While they may be too thick to enter (except for adventurous toddlers), they serve as vital havens for peace and contemplation. This is what Van Middelem refers to as “urban acupuncture,” a “healing forest” enhancing the quality of life not just for the land, but for those who wander or relax nearby.

“Many of our greatest cities were built upon ancient forests,” Van Middelem shares with the audience. “SUGi aims to restore these forests in collaboration with local communities.”

The term reforestation might evoke images of vast landscapes peppered with eager young saplings. However, reforestation can occur in various settings, especially when utilizing the growth techniques that make pocket forests distinct. Traditional landscaping practices suggest that trees need plenty of space to thrive. In pocket forests, trees are densely packed, typically just a foot or two apart. These forests also stand out for the diverse array of plant species they incorporate. The goal is to recreate urban environments that reflect the ancient woodlands cleared to make way for cities worldwide, including what is now New York City.

The concept of the pocket forest dates back to the 1970s, when Japanese botanist Akira Miyawaki began planting small forests that replicated the richness of the vegetation he observed around shrines throughout Japan. Miyawaki went on to implement similar initiatives in 1,300 locations, each a testament to “the healing power of forests” (as one of his books is titled), enhancing both the landscapes and the lives of local residents. He established pocket forests across Southeast Asia and beyond, each tailored to its environment, all characterized by two fundamental principles: density and diversity.

Due to the close planting of trees and shrubs in a pocket forest, competition for resources—such as light and soil nutrients—becomes fierce. This rivalry allows plants to grow up to 10 times faster than in more spacious environments. Ethan Bryson, the head forester on the Roosevelt Island project, notes that plants in pocket forests (also known as Miyawaki forests) boast a survival rate of around 90 percent, significantly higher than that of traditional reforestation efforts.

In 2011, pocket forests received a significant boost when industrial engineer Shubhendu Sharma founded his forest company in India. Sharma aimed to create forests “with the same precision as we manufacture cars or develop software,” as he expressed in a 2014 Ted Talk. The results speak for themselves: by 2019, Sharma’s company, Afforestt, had planted 144 forests and over 450,000 trees. Perhaps more importantly, Sharma has inspired aspiring forest creators worldwide—Bryson included.

Inspired by Sharma’s Ted Talk, Bryson launched his own venture, Natural Urban Forests, in 2016, creating forests in various unexpected locations. There are pocket forests on former landfills, around factories, and adjacent to correctional facilities. The objective remains constant: to “restore forests with the same passion that led to their destruction,” he explains.

Pocket forests are not confined to overlooked areas. Major cities—including Tokyo, Glasgow in Scotland, and Cape Town in South Africa—feature pocket forests, some positioned in prominent, central locales. In London, SUGi-associated pocket forests thrive amid the stark, brutalist architecture of the South Bank, next to St. Luke’s Church in Earl’s Court, and near a couple of hospitals in Chelsea. In Beirut, pocket forests rejuvenate neighborhoods scarred by the 2020 port explosion. In Mumbai, a pocket forest provides solace outside a hospital. As locals and visitors traverse the city or rush to work, they can experience a refreshing touch of greenery, hear the songs of birds, and reflect on their connection to the earth.

Are pocket forests destinations like the Eiffel Tower, Westminster Abbey, or the Great Wall of China? Not exactly. However, they still serve as attractions by enhancing their surroundings, making them more appealing and livable, thus enriching the area's overall charm. Travelers often arrive in cities with specific sights in mind: a statue, a café. Yet, travel encompasses more than just ticking off famous landmarks; it involves the experiences we encounter in between. For instance, visitors to the Kumano Shrine in Tokyo or the Franconia Sculpture Park near Minneapolis might not initially consider pocket forests, but discovering these hidden gems can elevate their visit.

Certainly, pocket forests also thrive near schools, parks, housing complexes, and other commonplace areas—places people typically don't engage with attentively. One of the key roles of a pocket forest is to enliven the ordinary spaces in our lives, encouraging us to rediscover our neighborhoods and cities as unique places worthy of attention. Why shouldn’t the areas where we spend most of our lives be infused with beauty? Why can’t our walks to the grocery store bring us joy? Although pocket forests are often too dense to traverse, people can still enjoy their edges or, in some cases, stroll along designated paths. (The Roosevelt Island site will include wheelchair-accessible pathways.)

The environmental advantages of pocket forests are notable as well. Urban trees sequester over 700 million tons of carbon, accounting for about 12.6 percent of annual carbon dioxide emissions in the U.S., according to the Climate Change Resource Center. City greenery absorbs rainwater, purifies the air, and enhances soil health. They provide habitats for birds, insects, and other wildlife, contributing to local biodiversity, not just within the forests but also in the surrounding regions. Bryson anticipates that the Roosevelt Island pocket forest will attract peregrine falcons, squirrels, and butterflies. Beneath the surface, a hidden fungal network will bolster soil health and stability.

Moreover, urban trees correlate with lower crime rates, stronger community ties, enhanced immune systems, and improved cognitive functions. Yale Climate Connections reports on a study that discovered that “doubling urban tree coverage in European cities from 15 to 30 percent could have saved over 2,600 lives during the continent’s extreme heat wave of 2015, reducing the death toll by nearly 40 percent.” As temperatures rise, the cooling benefits of tree shade will become increasingly vital. A mini forest, though small, can have a powerful impact.

As the opening speeches conclude, the crowd moves to the edge of the planting area, where heaps of young bushes, trees, and ferns await planting. At this stage, the trees resemble little more than bare sticks with fuzzy root clumps. However, in the coming months, they will showcase their remarkable diversity. The selection of plants has been meticulously developed in collaboration with representatives from the Lenape Center, an Indigenous organization based in New York and a key partner in the forest project. Once mature, the forest will serve as a miniature representation of the woodlands familiar to the Lenape people who once inhabited this land.

Curtis Zunigha, co-director and co-founder of the Lenape Center, is the first to plant a tree. He ignites a bundle of tobacco, and the sweet, smoky aroma quickly fills the air. He places some of the tobacco in the earth, consecrating the area and invoking goodwill for the future forest. For Zunigha, this project is more than just a beautiful addition of greenery or a safeguard against flooding and erosion; it is also a sanctuary that offers "healing and wellness," a space meant to address the "historical and generational trauma inflicted on the Lenape people" by European settlers who drove them from their lands centuries ago.

One by one, the tree clippings are dipped into a bucket of brownish "compost tea," a nutrient-rich solution derived from the liquid runoff of compost scraps. Volunteers carry these clippings to the future forest site, navigating soil punctuated by holes for each tree, shrub, and fern. The trees are then planted, one in each hole, and the cycle begins anew.

Soon, it's my turn to plant a tree. A woman hands me a young sapling she identifies as a baby maple. I dip its roots into the compost tea, waiting for the bubbles to release. Then I make my way to a designated hole, where the earth feels cold, damp, and mixed with wood chips donated by Brooklyn’s Green-Wood Cemetery. I set my tree in the hole, cover it with soil, and gently pat everything down.

Nearby the new forest, gardening tools are scattered about: shovels, rakes, buckets, and spades. Yet the urban backdrop is unmistakable. A Fresh Direct grocery truck rolls past. A woman feeds her dog from a plastic takeout container. Across the water, a massive Pepsi-Cola sign looms in Brooklyn. The contrast between the natural and the man-made, between the artificial and the vibrant, is striking.

I rinse my hands and start conversing with the volunteers. One woman has lived on Roosevelt Island for decades, while another runs an eco-friendly dance studio. Two little girls are selling Girl Scout cookies, and two boys haul a heavy bucket of water. This is our forest: that is the essence of the message from its organizers. Pocket forests are not merely about changing land; they are about transforming—and enriching—the communities that create and cherish them. If, as author Richard Powers has said, forests are "intricate, reciprocal nations of interconnected life," then we too are part of a complex, reciprocal community, our connections deepened by our shared commitment to this and other future pocket forests.

It turns out that we New Yorkers are the 48th species contributing to the Roosevelt Island pocket forest.