Musings not just about the tree.
Lately, I’ve been starting my mornings on the trails again—I’d forgotten how much I needed it. The quiet. The cool air. The movement. Beautiful nature and space to just be. It brings everything into perspective and calms my thoughts.
On my run this morning at Mulligans Flat, as the first light stretched across the landscape, one tree caught my eye.
A stark silhouette against the sky, standing alone in an open field. Striking. Resilient. But also… kind of lonely.
As I kept running, I started thinking about places—what makes some feel alive and inviting while others remain empty and disconnected? Some, like this tree, stand alone—isolated, yet enduring. Others are part of something larger—an ecosystem, a rhythm, a community.
Place shape us… if we let it
Mulligans Flat is one of Canberra’s quiet treasures. Kangaroos on the ridgeline. Birdsong in the morning mist. Trails that pull you gently forward. It draws people in—not just to move, but to breathe, to reflect, to connect.
Some places just work. They offer more than function—they create feeling. Movement flows naturally. There’s rhythm, purpose, welcome.
Other places, despite the best planning intentions, fall flat. They’re technically fine, but they lack soul. People pass through, but don’t stay. Nothing invites you in.
Good design starts with people, not just plans
If trail running teaches you anything, it’s that movement isn’t linear. You have to adjust to the terrain. Read the ground beneath you. Respond to what the landscape offers.
Great places ask the same of us. They’re not fixed. They flex, invite, shift. They welcome you to stay a while.
And when we plan places with people at the centre, we make connection easier. We bring movement and meaning together.
Some of the things I always come back to in this work:
Design for movement and interaction – Streets, paths, and public spaces should be more than just thoroughfares. They should invite people to pause, interact, and engage with their surroundings.
Create places with purpose and identity – A place isn’t liveable because it ticks a checklist. It’s liveable when it gives people a sense of belonging. When it feels like it means something.
Invest in social infrastructure, not just buildings – Buildings don’t make a place great. People do. So we need programs, services, and gathering spaces that support community—not just structures.
What makes a place thrive?
Here's what I think matters:
Plan for people, not just infrastructure: Think beyond functionality. Ask: will this place support connection? Will people want to come here, not just pass through?
Design for more than one kind of use:The best places work for mornings and evenings, kids and elders, solitude and celebration. They aren’t built for one moment—they’re built for many.
Make access and inclusion non-negotiable: It’s not enough for a place to be reachable. It needs to feel welcoming, safe, and comfortable, especially for those too often left out.
Design for change, not permanence: Great places evolve. They adapt to the seasons, to people, and to changing needs. If a space can’t flex, it won’t last.
Think beyond construction to what happens next: A place is only as good as the life within it. Activation, events, shared rituals—that’s what builds loyalty and love over time.
Back to the tree…
Maybe it’s a symbol of resilience. Maybe it’s a quiet reminder that even strong things need connection. That being part of something bigger makes us all stronger.
That’s what we aim for in good planning—not just structures, but systems that hold people well.
Mulligans Flat works because it wasn’t just left to chance. It was protected, nurtured, woven into the fabric of the city. It’s not just a nature reserve—it's part of our community life.
And that’s social sustainability.
A lone tree makes a beautiful image. But a thriving landscape? Where everything connects, and people find their place within it?
That’s where the real magic lies.
