If your answer is “not very much”, you are not alone. In our research based on a representative survey of the UK population, 78% of respondents felt that temperatures are becoming hotter, yet only one in ten identified mental health issues as a possible consequence of extreme heat.

But the evidence suggests this may be a serious blind spot.

When asked about their actual experiences during hot weather, the majority of people reported many symptoms closely tied to mental health, from exhaustion and irritability to emotional strain and difficulty coping. As many as 64% of people reported difficulties sleeping – a strong risk factor for mental and physical health problems. This suggests that, even in temperate countries like the UK, many of us may already be experiencing the mental health effects of extreme heat without recognising them as such.

These effects are not confined to people’s private experiences but are visible across the healthcare system: our recent analysis of hospital medical records of Londoners over a 12-year period found a 6% increase in psychiatric hospital admissions and a 7% increase in community mental health service use during heatwaves. These increases are consistent with those reported by earlier studies in traditionally hot countries like the USA, Mexico and China.

Why do we overlook the connection?

Part of the answer may lie in culture. In countries like the UK, warm weather has traditionally been associated with pleasure: long-awaited summer holidays, sun-drenched beer gardens and a welcome break from the rain. For many of us, hot days feel like summer at its most joyful, something to enjoy rather than worry about.

Even our everyday language reflects this. Heat is often associated with something desirable or exciting. We describe attractive people, new trends and breakout artists as “hot”. A Valentine’s card I saw recently comes to mind: Still the hottest human I know.

Limited access to trusted information may also play a role. In our study, healthcare professionals were the most trusted source of advice on health and wellbeing during hot weather (considered reliable by 82% of respondents). Yet more people said they received this information from social media, which was the least trusted source (considered reliable by only 40% of respondents).

In the absence of clear and trusted guidance, it is unsurprising that many people feel uncertain about what extreme heat means for mental health, and what helps.

How Does Hot Weather Affect Mental Health?

Our research suggests at least four ways in which extreme heat can affect mental health.

One pathway is biological. High temperatures can lead to dehydration, disturbed sleep and increased strain on the body, all of which can affect mood, concentration and emotional regulation.

Another pathway is psychological. Prolonged heat can feel mentally draining. Anyone who has spent days in an overheated room knows the feeling: irritability, restlessness, mental fatigue and a sense that even simple tasks require more effort. Over time, these experiences can contribute to symptoms of anxiety and low mood.

Heat also changes behaviour. People sleep less, exercise less and withdraw from daily routines that normally support mental wellbeing.

And it changes social life. During very hot weather, many people avoid going outside or spending time with others because they feel drained. For people living alone, or without strong social support, this can deepen isolation.

In reality, these pathways are interconnected and often reinforce one another. Poor sleep, for example, can reduce motivation to exercise or socialise, intensifying the psychological strain of extreme heat.

Who Is Most Vulnerable?

The mental health impacts of extreme heat are not evenly distributed.

People living with physical or mental health conditions appear particularly vulnerable. In our work, they were significantly more likely to report tiredness, irritability, reduced motivation, difficulty concentrating and social withdrawal during periods of extreme heat. They were also far more worried about the future impact of rising temperatures on mental health than people without health difficulties.

But heat also exposes and intensifies existing social inequalities.

During recent heatwaves, nearly half of Londoners living in social housing described their homes or local area as “much too hot”, compared with just over a quarter of those who owned their homes outright. Rising temperatures do not affect everyone equally. Poorer housing, limited access to cooling, fewer green spaces and overcrowded living conditions can all make extreme heat harder to escape, both physically and psychologically. In contrast, those with access to well-insulated homes, shaded neighbourhoods and private green space are better protected from its effects.

This means that extreme heat is not only a public health issue, but also a social justice issue.

There are other risk factors, including impaired mobility and inflexible work schedules. Certain medications, such as some diuretics, antidepressants, antipsychotics and blood pressure drugs, can affect hydration or the body’s ability to regulate temperature, making extreme heat harder to cope with.

The body’s ability to regulate temperature may also change during pregnancy, the postnatal period and menopause, periods of physical and emotional vulnerability during which coping with extreme heat can become harder.

Practical Ways to Protect Mental Health During Heatwaves

There are simple steps each of us can take to protect our mental wellbeing during periods of extreme heat.

At King’s College London, we held focus groups with people who have experienced mental health difficulties and the healthcare professionals who support them. Across six lively conversations, participants shared what made hot weather harder and, importantly, what actually helped them cope.

This kind of research does not rely on large datasets or statistics. Instead, it listens to people’s first-hand experiences: how heat disrupts everyday routines, how it feels emotionally, and what small actions make a genuine difference. These insights help us understand the real-life impact of extreme heat on mental health and point towards more practical and accessible ways of responding.

Together, participants identified practical ways of coping when temperatures rise:

• Plan your day around the heat: if possible, avoid going out during the hottest times of day and give yourself permission to slow down.

• Keep your home cooler: close blinds or curtains during the day to block direct sunlight, and open windows in the evening or at night when temperatures fall.

• Use a fan: even a simple fan can bring relief during very hot weather, helping indoor spaces feel more manageable.

• Drink plenty of water: staying hydrated on very hot days matters for the mind as well as the body.

• Go where it is cooler: shaded parks and cooler indoor spaces can provide relief when temperatures peak.

• Talk to someone: feeling emotionally overwhelmed, irritable or exhausted during hot weather is more common than many people realise. Sharing how you are feeling with friends, family or someone you trust can make things feel more manageable.

• Seek advice from a healthcare professional: If you’re feeling overwhelmed, don’t hesitate to reach out to someone who can help you come up with coping strategies and review your medication.

These simple actions can make a difference, but on their own they may not be enough. At times, they can feel like seeking shelter beneath a tree whose roots are slowly dying.

Extreme heat is not an isolated problem, but a symptom of something more fundamental: a relationship with the natural world shaped too often by extraction rather than care, by taking without giving back. This way of relating to the natural world lies at the heart not only of extreme heat, but of many of the challenges affecting our lives right now, from biodiversity loss to widening inequalities.

Perhaps the real work to protect mental health during extreme heat does not happen on the hottest days, when all we can do is be gentle with ourselves, seek shade and drink water. Perhaps it happens on the ordinary days in between: the cool grey ones, the warm bright ones, the days when heat is not yet a threat.

That is when we can begin to make our neighbourhoods greener, healthier and more nurturing.

It might be as simple as seeding wildflowers, planting a tree, or helping care for a local garden or park. It might mean turning tree pits or neglected corners of our street into small pockets of biodiversity, joining a local food-growing project, or vigorously campaigning for greener, less polluted neighbourhoods and policies that support a timely transition to net zero.

Those ordinary days in between are also when we can strengthen something less visible but equally important: connection. Knocking on a neighbour’s door, getting to know people on our street, and learning who may need extra support during a heatwave can all help us endure future periods of extreme heat. This may matter especially for older adults, people with reduced mobility, or those living with chronic health conditions, for whom extreme heat can be harder to cope with.

As hotter summers become the norm, protecting mental health may depend not only on how we adapt as individuals, but on the kinds of spaces and communities we build together all year round.

Perhaps this is what preparing for extreme heat really means: not simply surviving hotter days, but creating the conditions in which people and places can flourish.

To read a page without drifting, to follow a conversation without losing the thread, to finish a piece of work without interruption.

A survey from King’s College London found that one in two people feel their attention span is shorter than it used to be. And this isn’t limited to any one age group, but is reported across all stages of life.

A patient I once worked with told me:
“When I try to focus for more than a few minutes, I feel a kind of pressure building in my head.”

That image of pressure building has stayed with me. Something about the way we live seems to be making attention not only fragile, but at times almost unbearable.

We often respond by trying to outsmart the problem with new hacks: productivity apps, smart timers, the latest techniques to help us concentrate for longer.

But some researchers are turning to something that has been there all along: nature.

What the Evidence Shows

In one study, participants were randomly assigned to one of two groups: a 50-minute walk either in a tree-lined park or along a busy urban street. After the walk, they completed a memory task. Those who had walked in nature improved their performance by around 20%, while those in the urban condition showed no change.

And when the same experiment was repeated with people experiencing depression - a condition associated with difficulties in concentration - the improvement was not only replicated but five times larger. In other words, time in nature didn’t just improve performance but had its strongest effect in those who needed it most.

Further research has shown these improvements are not just behavioural, but also visible in the brain. In one study, participants completed a mentally fatiguing task and were then sent for a 40-minute walk in either a natural or urban setting. Afterwards, the researchers asked participants to complete a task which required prolonged attention and measured their brain activity using electroencephalography.

Only those who walked in nature showed a boost in a specific brain signal called the error-related negativity. This signal, which happens just milliseconds after we make a mistake, is the brain’s way of detecting errors and helping us correct them. A stronger error-related negativity means our brain is more alert and better at detecting mistakes, adjusting, and staying on track over time. In other words, a walk in nature gave the brain a noticeable boost, sharpening mental focus in ways that an urban walk couldn’t match.

Even Small Moments Make a Difference

We might think these benefits require long walks in remote landscapes. But the evidence suggests otherwise.

In a classic study, students living in dormitories performed better on attention tasks if their windows overlooked natural scenes rather than built environments. Even a glimpse of trees seemed to help. Subsequent studies have found that:

• Listening to birdsong for short periods can improve concentration

• Having plants in a room can enhance cognitive performance

• Even watching images of natural scenes on a screen helps restore attention, although the benefits tend to be lower than those of real-life exposure

In one particularly striking experiment, 150 university students completed a demanding attention task. Halfway through, participants were given a 40-second “micro-break.” Half looked at a green roof covered in plants; the other half looked at concrete. When they returned to the task, those who had seen the green roof made fewer mistakes and were able to sustain their attention for longer than those who saw concrete. This suggests that even brief moments of contact with nature, lasting not hours but seconds, can restore our ability to focus.

How Does Nature Help?

One explanation is physiological.

Spending time in nature appears to shift the body out of a state of stress. Studies have shown reductions in blood pressure and skin conductance - markers associated with the “fight-or-flight” response. In other words, nature helps the body settle and this allows the mind to focus.

Another explanation is psychological.

According to attention restoration theory, natural environments engage our attention in a gentle, effortless way, allowing the more effortful form of attention we rely on for work and study to recover. Rather than demanding focus, nature seems to hold it softly, giving the mind a chance to rest and reset.

Of course, just as the body and mind are two aspects of the same whole, these may simply be two ways of describing the same process.

The Developing Brain

These effects may be even more important for children and adolescents.

We know that the brain develops gradually from birth to the early 20s, and that during this time it is highly sensitive to the environment. A growing body of research suggests that regular exposure to green spaces supports this development.

One study examined the benefits of green spaces around schools and homes in schoolchildren. The results revealed:

• Improved attention

• Less distractibility

• Better working memory (the ability to hold and use information in mind)

Again, these effects are not just in the mind. When the same researchers also used brain imaging in a subset of the children, they discovered that those with greater exposure to green surroundings had larger volumes in several brain regions linked to cognitive control, including the left and right prefrontal cortex and cerebellar hemispheres.

There is also evidence that nature exposure is linked to actual academic performance. Schools surrounded by more greenery tend to have higher test scores, better graduation rates, and more students progressing to higher education. As one research team put it: high grades really do grow on trees.

What About ADHD?

These findings raise an important question: could nature help those who struggle most with attention?

ADHD affects around 7% of children and 2.5% of adults. While medications can be effective in the short term, they may come with side effects, and their long-term impact is still debated.

Several large studies suggest that growing up with access to green space may reduce the risk of developing ADHD. For example, research following over fifty thousand children has shown that consistent exposure to green environments is associated with a lower likelihood of developing ADHD. Interestingly, the most important factor wasn’t the average or highest amount of greenery a child experienced; rather, it was consistent exposure to a minimum level of green space over time that made the biggest difference. In other words, regular contact with green spaces is more effective at reducing the risk of ADHD than short or occasional bursts of intense exposure.

For children who already have ADHD, there is also evidence of benefit. In one study, children who regularly played in green spaces had milder symptoms than those who played indoors or in built environments. In another, a simple 20-minute walk in a park improved concentration to a degree comparable to common medications.

This doesn’t necessarily mean nature should replace pharmacological treatment. For example, we do not know whether these improvements are long-lasting or fade quickly. Still, these findings do raise an important question: are we relying too heavily on heavily marketed medications while overlooking a free, accessible alternative that may help without the usual side effects?

A Different Way to Think About Attention

The research evidence points in a clear direction: nature helps us focus. It follows that creating greener spaces for children and adolescents - at a sensitive time of brain development - should be a priority.

And yet, as I reflect on what this means for everyday life, I am left with a lingering sense of unease.

Most of the research frames attention in terms of capacity: how long we can sustain it, how well we perform on a task, how quickly we recover when we are mentally fatigued. In other words, attention is treated as something finite that nature can help us train, optimise, and extend.

This framing brings an image to mind: a mouse on a rotating wheel, in a world that never stops asking for more attention.

What if what really matters is not how long we can focus, but what we are focusing on?

The idea of going to the olive grove to help my mind stay on a spreadsheet for longer feels absurd. At this time of year, I go to the olive grove to look at the tiny olive flowers and see how the trees are doing as the season changes. And that shift in attention - from the spreadsheet to those easily missed blossoms - feels worthwhile in its own right.

What the research doesn’t fully capture is that nature supports attention not only by increasing its capacity, but also by offering something meaningful to attend to.

Perhaps the question is not: How can I hold my attention for longer?

But rather:

What is worth paying attention to?

That’s the first thing Sofia says when she opens the door, before letting us in with a big smile.

On a warm early spring afternoon, I have driven my 89-year-old mother to her home village to visit her 92-year-old best friend.

For the first 20 years of their lives, they saw each other every single day. As children, they would go foraging dandelions to make frittatas, and as young women they would go to the village discotheque every Saturday night. After my mother moved to a nearby town, they stayed in touch through the occasional visit and daily phone calls, mostly about the latest village gossip.

Sofia sits us down and brings us water and fresh coffee. After a little hesitation, I can’t quite help myself and ask: “You said you were talking to your plants?”

Sofia might be walking with difficulty, bent over and using a stick, but she’s nobody’s fool. She stops and studies me for a moment: “Do you think I’m talking to my plants because I’m an old woman losing my mind, young man?”

“Uh, no,” I say.

“Listen to me,” she continues, her voice more serious. “I’ve been talking to my plants all my life. They have always kept me company and helped me clear my thoughts.”

She looks me straight in the eye, as if daring me to disagree.

Then she turns to my mother, and the village gossip begins.

Can Houseplants Shape the Way We Feel and Think?

Afterwards, I wasn’t quite sure what to make of the exchange. It was clear that Sofia gained something meaningful and beneficial from interacting with her plants, not only in old age but throughout her life. Was this simply an isolated case, or something real that plants could offer us all?

As a clinical psychologist working in the National Health Service, I had seen first-hand the nurturing power of the natural world. For people struggling with mental health difficulties, time in nature can offer an accessible and effective way of lifting mood, reducing stress, and restoring a sense of balance.

And as a neuroscientist, I was familiar with the evidence linking time in nature to better mental health, lower risk of burnout, and sharper focus. I had even contributed to this literature myself, showing that these effects can emerge even after brief, incidental encounters with urban nature in everyday life.

But these insights were based on outdoor nature: parks, forests, and landscapes we can move through and immerse ourselves in. Could the humble houseplant have similar effects?

At first, the idea struck me as slightly absurd. Surely houseplants could not carry the same power as forests or green spaces. But when I began to explore the scientific literature, I found a few surprises.

The Emerging Science of Houseplants and Mental Health

Contrary to what I expected, several studies have examined how houseplants affect the way we feel and think.

Some of this research is observational, meaning that people are asked whether they have houseplants and are then assessed for mental wellbeing. For example, in a Chinese study, the number of houseplants, the time spent caring for them, and the number of years people had kept them were all associated with higher levels of mental wellbeing.

However, studies of this kind cannot establish causation. In other words, is caring for plants making people feel better, or are people who already feel better more likely to care for plants?

Other studies have taken a different approach, using images of domestic interiors, such as bedrooms and living rooms, with varying levels of greenery. For example, in an Italian study, images of rooms with plants were perceived as more restorative and associated with more positive emotions.

Interestingly, these perceived benefits are not the same for all houseplants. In a UK study using images of pot plants, improvements in subjective wellbeing depended on perceived plant health and canopy density rather than more superficial features like shape.

But studies using images of plants raise another question: do the findings translate into real life benefits? To address this, some researchers have turned to experimental designs, randomly assigning people to environments with or without real plants.

One study compared watering houseplants with a simple control task. Researchers measured changes in brain activity, blood pressure, and self-reported mood. Watering indoor plants led to a reduction in blood pressure, brain activity associated with greater relaxation, and higher levels of happiness.

These benefits are not limited to mental health but may also extend to cognition. In an experimental study carried out across multiple workplaces in the Netherlands, researchers examined the impact of introducing plants into office environments that had none. Within just four months, people working in offices with plants showed consistent improvements including fewer health-related complaints, greater satisfaction with their workspace, and a stronger sense of privacy.

The benefits of sharing our living and working spaces with plants were confirmed in a review combining the results of 42 independent studies. The authors found that indoor plants are associated with both greater physiological relaxation and improved cognitive performance.

Why This Matters

About 55% of the world’s population currently lives in cities, and this is projected to rise to 68% by 2050. At the same time, we now spend around 80% of our life indoors.

If everyday outdoor life makes up only a small fraction of our week, then relying solely on parks, forests or other green spaces may not be enough. Instead, nature may need to be woven back into the homes and workplaces where we actually spend our time.

Houseplants may offer an accessible and practical point of connection with the natural world. They do not require travel, good weather or free time. Simply sharing a room with a living plant creates repeated exposure to natural forms, colours and textures throughout the day.

How Can Something as Simple as a Houseplant Make a Difference?

One possible explanation relates to air quality. Since outdoor vegetation clearly reduces air pollution, it has been suggested that indoor plants may also improve the air within our living and working spaces, with potential benefits for physical and mental health. Current evidence, however, offers little support for this idea, as one would need hundreds of plants to make a measurable difference in an average-size home.

A more promising explanation involves microbes. Reduced contact with the natural world limits our exposure to beneficial microbes that support gut, immune and brain health. Tending plants (touching soil, handling leaves) may help restore some of this contact. Consistent with this, office workers exposed to indoor plants show greater diversity of beneficial microbes on their skin, alongside lower levels of inflammation-related markers in the blood.

Another pathway lies in the act of caring. As living organisms, plants invite our attention. Watering a plant, noticing new growth, and responding when leaves begin to drop can cultivate a sense of responsibility beyond ourselves. These small, everyday acts of care are associated with greater psychological wellbeing, both in the general population and among those at risk of mental health issues.

Plants may also offer a subtle form of companionship, as Sofia reminded me the moment she opened the door. At a time of rising loneliness across all age groups, they bring a sense of aliveness into a space, reminding us that we are part of an interconnected network of life. While plants cannot replace human relationships, perhaps they could help soften feelings of isolation.

These are just some of the possible pathways through which houseplants might affect us. Each may be modest on its own, but together they may combine into something greater than the sum of its parts.

Is Indoor Nature an Overlooked Public Health Intervention?

We still don’t understand how to best translate these findings into meaningful changes in our everyday lives.

In school settings, studies have found that having plants in classrooms is associated with improved academic performance. Therefore, should we consider brining nature into the classroom to support attention and learning, particularly for people with ADHD, who are known to benefit from time in the natural world?

In healthcare settings, patients who can see trees from their windows recover faster and experience fewer complications. So should we reconsider policies that restrict plants in hospitals for fear of germs, in light of their potential benefits? A patient who had experienced repeated hospitalisations for severe mental illness once told me: “I think everyone who is sectioned should be given a welcome pack - including a small plant to keep in your room and take care of.”

Beneath these questions lies a more fundamental one: why do we bring fragments of the natural world into our most intimate spaces? Is it purely for aesthetic reasons, or is there something more fundamental at play?

I could not find the answer in the scientific papers. But a conversation with my mother, as I drove her home after visiting Sofia, offered an unexpected insight.

The Drive Home

“Did you know Sofia speaks to her plants, Mum?” I ask as I drive her home.

“Of course - she has always done that.”

“Do you also do that?”

“Never.”

“But you do have a house full of plants. Why is that?”

“I don’t know,” she says. “I didn’t have any growing up - I just started acquiring them after I left the village.”

“And why did you do that?”

“I don’t know, Andrea”

She pauses for a while, then adds: “I guess I wasn’t able to go outside and walk among the chestnut trees anymore, so I started collecting plants.”

So perhaps this is the answer that scientific papers cannot fully provide.

Like birds returning to a familiar nest, we bring fragments of the natural world indoors because we recognise it as home.

Loneliness is a common experience reflecting a fundamental human need to belong. But when it becomes chronic, lasting months or even years, it can affect our health in far-reaching ways.

People who experience chronic loneliness are at higher risk of cardiovascular disease, prolonged inflammation, reduced immune function, and dysregulated stress responses. In a meta-analysis that combined data from 70 longitudinal studies involving a total of 3.4 million people, loneliness was linked to a 26% increase in mortality risk, exceeding well-known risk factors such as obesity and air pollution.

These negative impacts extend to mental health. Chronic loneliness is associated with higher rates of depression, anxiety, substance misuse, and suicidal behaviour, as well as accelerated cognitive decline and increased risk of dementia in later life.

Loneliness often carries a sense of stigma. People who feel lonely may struggle with low self-esteem or shame, which can make it difficult to acknowledge how they feel or seek help, especially in cultures that place a high value on self-reliance.

Some researchers believe we are facing an epidemic of loneliness, affecting people of all ages, genders, and socioeconomic backgrounds. Yet culture does play a role. Chronic loneliness tends to be more common in individualistic societies, where self-sufficiency is highly valued. In contrast, people living in collectivist cultures, where social ties and interdependence are emphasised, tend to report lower levels of loneliness.

While we often think of loneliness as a single concept, researchers have identified three distinct types: intimate loneliness, the absence of a close, supportive relationship; social loneliness, a lack of meaningful connections with friends and family; and collective loneliness, the feeling of not belonging to a wider group or community.

These different definitions of loneliness share a simple assumption: loneliness is about a perceived lack of connection with other people.

But what if this was only part of the story?

Alone in the Garden (Or So I Thought)

On the first day of spring, I return to the vegetable garden. At first glance, it may seem bare. But look closer, and life is already returning, from the electric green shoots on the raspberry plants to the baby lizards sunbathing on the stones.

I’ll be spending the next three days on my own, weeding and preparing the soil for summer by adding compost and mulch.

I’m looking forward to the solitude.

I’ve just brought a few podcasts with me, in case time slows down too much.

If I feel like talking to someone, I can always call a friend.

But I am sure I won’t need to.

Let me check if there’s any reception, just in case.

It’s only three days.

The first few hours go by quickly. I enjoy the warm sun on my skin and the gentle mix of irregular birdsong and buzzing all around me. Bees are everywhere: on the dandelions, on the calendulas, on the rosemary, moving from flower to flower with their restless energy. Occasionally, I hear a sudden rustling noise. Is it a mouse? No - just a lizard darting through the dry leaves and into the space between the logs.

I am reminded that pottering in the garden alone can be both calming and stimulating.

Then, a simple thought stops me in my tracks: I am not alone.

I am surrounded by hundreds of birds, flitting and chattering playfully. And a small army of bees are at work all around me. As I stop and look, the soil is alive with spiders, beetles and millipedes. And all of this before even I consider the worms, microbes and bacteria beneath my feet.

The work I am doing in the garden may be more visible to the human eye, but it is not more important than the work they are doing. Without me, there might be no pumpkins, zucchini or strawberries in the garden this summer; but without them, there would be no garden. In a sense, we are all working together, like members of a gardening collective open to all species.

Perhaps it’s no wonder I have not even thought of reaching for my phone to listen to a podcast or make a call. I was too absorbed in gardening with trillions of other forms of life.

We tend to think loneliness is about people. But what if it’s also about the absence of the living world?

The New Science of Ecological Loneliness

In a Dutch study, individuals with more green space in their neighbourhood were less likely to feel lonely than those living in areas with little or no greenery. Interestingly, the two groups reported similar levels of social contact with their neighbours, suggesting that green spaces may alleviate loneliness by helping people feel more connected to the living world around them, even without direct contact with people.

In a UK study, social isolation was associated with an increased risk of depression, confirming the well-established link between mental health and social life. However, living near green space acted as a buffer, helping to protect mental health from the negative effects of isolation. The authors suggest that social contact and nature contact may be expressions of the same fundamental need: “the need to feel connected, whether this is manifested as being connected to other people or the natural world”.

At first, the idea that our need for social contact and our need for nature contact are closely connected may seem surprising, especially if we view humans as separate from the natural world. But if we let go of human exceptionalism and see ourselves as part of the natural world, it begins to make sense: being in nature can help us feel less alone.

However, not everyone has the option of living close to large parks or natural areas, especially in densely populated cities. Could visiting green spaces help ease loneliness for those who do not live in a green neighbourhood?

My own research supports this idea. In the Urban Mind project, we invited members of the public to provide real-time data using a smartphone app. The app used ecological momentary assessment, prompting participants at random times to report what they were doing and how they were feeling.

We found that being in overcrowded environments with people we feel little or no connection with increased likelihood of loneliness by up to 38%. In contrast, perceived social inclusivity - the feeling of being with people who share our values and make us feel welcome - was associated with a 21% decrease in the likelihood of loneliness. This highlights an important point: it is the quality of our social relationships, not the quantity of social contact, that matters most.

However, the most striking finding was that the context of these interactions also played a crucial role. People in urban settings with natural features such as trees, plants and birds were 28% less likely to feel lonely than those in environments without these features, regardless of who else was present. In other words, nature acted as a protective factor against loneliness, making even crowded spaces feel more welcoming.

Since the publication of our research, similar findings have been reported across the world. For example, when Australian researchers tracked over 3,000 people for 16 months, they found high levels of loneliness, particularly among young adults. However, spending just one to two hours per week in nature more than doubled the chances of finding relief from loneliness.

The overall message from this research is clear: when it comes to loneliness, our disconnection from the living world may matter as much as our disconnection from each other.

Of course, this does not mean we can fully replace human companionship with birds, bees and lizards. But it does suggest that understanding loneliness purely as the absence of people misses something essential: loneliness is not just a social condition, but also an ecological one.

So the next time we feel lonely, it may not only be a signal that we need more people.

It may also be a signal that we need more life around us.

Today, the majority of children spend less time outdoors than prison inmates. This has consequences for their knowledge of the natural world. Those aged 4 to 11 are better at recognising Pokémon characters than the animals and plants living in their own local park. Adults are not immune to this trend. Three in four rarely or never pause to watch wildlife or smell a wildflower.

All of this points to a troubling reality: nature is slipping out of our everyday lives.

The paradox is that this growing disconnection from nature is happening at the very same time that science is uncovering the vital role of the natural world for our mental health. We now know that spending time in nature boosts wellbeing in the general population, protects against future mental health issues and supports recovery from illness. And when it comes to living a worthwhile and meaningful life, connection with nature is four times more important than socio-economic status.

Based on this evidence, healthcare systems are beginning to prescribe time in nature through so-called green prescriptions. In a recent UK trial involving more than 8,300 participants, those who were prescribed time in nature showed reduced symptoms of depression and anxiety. The effects were not limited to clinical symptoms: on a scale from 1 to 10, happiness increased from 5.3 to 7.5, while the feeling that life was worthwhile rose from 4.7 to 6.8.

Similar programmes are being rolled out around the world, including ParkRx in the USA and Nature Play WA in Australia. A meta-analysis combining the results of twenty-eight trials has found that these initiatives have a moderate to large effect on both depression and anxiety, while also improving cardiometabolic health.

If nature can act as medicine, what is the right dose? How much time in nature do we need each week to experience meaningful benefits?

Even A Short Walk Can Make A Difference

It turns out that even a short walk can make a difference to how we feel and think.

Researchers at Stanford University randomly assigned sixty participants to take a 50-minute walk either in a natural environment or along a busy urban street. Participants completed a series of psychological and cognitive tests before and after the walk. Those who walked in nature showed reduced anxiety, improved mood and better performance on a working-memory task compared with those who walked in an urban area. In other words, less than an hour in nature was enough to produce measurable benefits for both mood and cognition.

These effects are not just in the mind.

Researchers at the Max Planck Institute in Berlin measured brain activity in healthy participants before and after a one-hour walk, either in a forest or along a busy urban street. After the forest walk, activity in the amygdala, a brain region involved in detecting threats and triggering stress responses, decreased significantly, suggesting a calming effect on the brain. In contrast, amygdala activity did not change after the urban walk, where there was little exposure to nature.

A limitation of these studies is that the calming effects of a single walk may be temporary. But what happens when people spend time in nature regularly? How much is enough to make a lasting difference?

The Two-Hour Rule

To answer this question, researchers at University of Exeter analysed data from nearly 20,000 people across England. In this study, “nature” was defined as outdoor environments such as parks, beaches, woodland and the countryside, whether close to home or further afield.

The results showed that people who spent at least 120 minutes per week in nature experienced higher levels of wellbeing than those who spent no time in nature. This pattern was consistent across different groups, including younger and older adults and people with and without long-term health conditions.

Interestingly, these benefits were evident whether the 120 minutes were achieved in one long visit or spread across several shorter ones. Wellbeing continued to increase up to around 200–300 minutes per week, after which the gains began to level off. Following the publication of these findings, the UK government now recommends spending at least two hours per week in nature.

As a clinical psychologist, I find this result incredibly helpful. It gives us something concrete to recommend to patients struggling with stress, anxiety or low mood. And as a neuroscientist, I find it fascinating to see how our brain responds to the environments we inhabit.

And yet something about the idea of a “dose” of nature feels uncomfortable.

Why The Idea Of A “Dose” Of Nature Misses The Point

The language of dosage suggests that nature is something external to us. A treatment we consume in measured quantities in order to stay healthy or feel better. It implies that a carefully calculated amount of nature each week is all we need.

But of course we are not separate from nature. We are part of it.

Lucas, a young man with bipolar disorder I once worked with, told me that the times he felt most unwell were precisely the times when he longed to be in nature. When I asked him why, he said that in the natural world he felt something he experienced nowhere else: a sense of belonging. Ironically, when he felt most unwell and needed nature most, he found himself confined to hospital rooms with no plants and no views of the outdoors.

This sense of belonging in nature is common among people, whether they suffer from severe mental illness or not. I have experienced it myself many times while wandering into the woods in search of mushrooms, chestnuts or other small gifts.

But if we feel we belong for 120 minutes per week, what happens in the remaining 9,960 minutes? Seen in this light, the advice that we should aim for two hours in nature every week feels absurd - a bit like telling a tree it only needs its roots in the soil for two hours each week.

Another issue with the language of dosage is that it implies nature is like medicine: something we either take or do not take. In fact, when it comes to time in nature, the picture is more nuanced.

What we do when we visit parks, woodlands, beaches or the countryside - for example, whether we pay attention to the colours, sounds and smells around us or scroll on our phone - matters more than how long we spend in nature. In a study of more than 2,000 adults, feeling connected to nature and actively engaging with it predicted wellbeing more strongly than the amount of time people spent outdoors. In other words, time in nature is about moments, not minutes.

Bringing Nature Back Into Everyday Life

The science may tell us that two hours per week is enough to bring meaningful benefits. But sometimes the hardest task for scientists is not finding the right answer, but asking the right question. Instead of asking how much nature we need, we might ask: how can we bring nature back into our everyday lives?

The answer lies not in a precise number of minutes, but in how we pay attention to and engage with the natural world - in ways that fit naturally into the rhythms of our everyday lives.

In practice, this means not only taking the occasional trip to a park or a forest, but also noticing the small moments of nature woven into the day: birdsong on the way to work, a bright orange poppy growing through a crack, the delicate intricacy of a spider web in a corner of the garden, the smell of the soil after the rain.

Because as Lucas once reminded me, nature is not a medicine we take to fix ourselves, but the living world we belong to.

Our mental health does not exist in isolation. It is shaped by the environments we experience each day - the air we breathe, the temperatures we are exposed to, and the living and working spaces we inhabit.

This is why climate change is not only an environmental crisis but also a psychological one. It can be easy to feel despair, confusion, or overwhelm in the face of ecological disruption.

And yet, there is another side to this story. The same natural world that is under pressure also holds remarkable potential to sustain and restore us.

Nature helps us thrive by improving the conditions in which mental health either flourishes or falters, from cleaner air to connected communities. It fosters awe and wonder, helping us live rich and purposeful lives. It supports both physical and mental health - a rare example of a truly holistic intervention that bridges the traditional divide between body and mind.

I call these the superpowers of nature because they highlight its holistic and transformative capacity, setting it apart from mental health treatments typically employed in our clinical services. What’s more, developing a stronger bond with nature is a win–win, benefiting both people and the planet.

As a neuroscientist, I examine these benefits through the lens of rigorous science. What does the evidence really show? Which physiological and psychological mechanisms are involved? And how can the research translate into small, practical actions in everyday life?

But science is not the only way of knowing.

I have learned as much from tending an olive grove throughout the year: observing the slow rhythms of growth, getting to know each tree as I prune it, smelling the olives as I harvest them. I once thought this was no more than a hobby, but over time I have come to realise how much can be learned from these simple actions.

Science can measure patterns but we need the human experience to make sense of them.

I created Wild Minds to bridge the two - translating research into practice, helping us feel less overwhelmed and rediscover purpose, connection and joy in the natural world around us. In each post, I combine the latest scientific evidence with reflections from life close to the land, asking not only what the research shows but also what this means for the way we live.

If these ideas resonate with you, I invite you to subscribe and explore them with me.

Andrea

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