Pioneers like Harvard social ecologist Stephen Kellert were among the first to champion modern biophilic design. Kellert believed that weaving nature into living and workspaces is critical for good physical and mental health.

Humans have evolved to gravitate towards nature, Kellert noted, but if we don't develop that impulse it fades. So his principles include access to natural light, air, water, plants, and gardens. Using materials such as wood and stone, natural designs such as leaf or shell patterns, and earthy colors also helps humans to feel closer to nature.

Biophilic designs can be seen in cities and buildings around the world. Modern examples include the Jewel Changi Airport in Singapore, with its four-storey forest garden and world's largest indoor waterfall fed by rainwater. Or the Swedish Mirrorcube tree house hotel, mainly made of used plywood and a lightweight aluminum (铝) frame wrapped around a tree.

Spectacular biophilic homes include One Central Park in Sydney apartment blocks featuring hanging gardens on the outside. The buildings recycle their own water and a suspended (悬浮的) motorized mirror system reflects sunlight down onto gardens below. Milan's Bosco Verticale block is perhaps even more eye—catching with its vertical forest of 17,000 trees, bushes, and plants.

Putting biophilic design to work for society could prevent millions in healthcare costs, with one study estimating annual savings of $93 million in the US alone. Hospital design in particular has historically been influenced by access to sunlight and views of nature. Modern buildings like the Khoo Teck Puat Hospital in Singapore, with its position next to the waterfall of the Yishun Pond, are closely linked with their surroundings. The hospital channels outdoor air to cool the inside, and uses reflective sunshades to direct light into the wards to brighten them and save energy.

The aim of these designs is to emphasize the human connection to nature by integrating buildings with the local environment. But how do we bring biophilia into our homes? Start with house plants. New smart home apps can also provide sensory nature experiences such as birdsong and a projected forest canopy, helping people to carve out a restful space indoors.

But perhaps the best way to transform society with biophilic designs is to start with schools. Children learn better and feel more relaxed in biophilic settings. So the Children and Nature Network is working with schools across the US to create green schoolyards for better physical and mental health and to increase opportunities for outdoor learning.

Biophilic designers are bringing nature into classrooms through natural patterns, shapes and colors, nature photography, artwork and materials like timber and stone. Fresh air flow, green walls, and aquariums all become part of a recipe for improving health and academic success.

    Look to many of history's cultural symbols, and there you'll find an ancestor of Frosty, the snowman in the movie Frozen. It appeared on some of the first postcards, starred in some of the earliest silent movies, and was the subject of a couple of the earliest photos, dating all the way back to the 1800s. I discovered even more about one of humanity's earliest forms of life art during several years of research around the world.

    For example, snowmen were a phenomenon in the Middle Ages, built with great skill and thought. At a time of limited means of expression, snow was like free art supplies dropped from the sky. It was a popular activity for couples to leisurely walk through town to view the temporary works of chilly art. Some were created by famous artists, including a 19-year-old Michelangelo, who in 1494 was appointed by the ruler of Florence, Italy, to build a snowman in his mansion's courtyard.

    The Miracle of 1511 took place during six freezing works called the Winter of Death. The city of Brussels was covered in snowmen—an impressive scene that told stories on every street corner. Some were political in nature, criticizing the church and government. Some were a reflection of people's imagination. For the people of Brussels, this was a defining moment of defining freedom. At least until spring arrived, by which time they were dealing with damaging floods.

    If you fear the heyday of the snowman has passed, don't worry: I've learned that some explosive snowman history is still being made today. Every year since 1818, the people of Zurich, Switzerland, celebrate the beginning of spring by blowing up a snowman. On the third Monday of April, the holiday Sechselauten is kicked off when a cotton snowman called the Boogg is stuffed with explosive and paraded through town by bakers and other tradesmen who throw bread to the crowds. The parade ends with the Boogg being placed on a 40-foot pile of firewood. After the bells of the Church of St. Peter have rung six times, representing the passing of winter, the pile is lit. When the snowman explodes, winter is considered officially over—the quicker it is burnt down, the longer summer is said to be.

A librarian in Indonesia's Java island is lending books to children in exchange for trash （垃圾） they collect in a creative way to clean up the environment and get the kids to read more.

Each weekday Raden Roro Hendarti rides her three-wheeler with books piled up at the back for children in Muntang village to exchange for plastic cups, bags and other waste that she carries back.

She told Reuters she is helping to get the kids reading as well as make them aware of the environment. As soon as she shows up, little children, many accompanied by their mothers, surround her "Trash Library" and request for the books. They are all carrying waste bags and Raden's three-wheeler quickly fills up with them as the books fly out. She's happy that with her mobile service, the kids are going to spend less time on online games as a result.

"Let us build a culture of literacy （读写能力） from young age to lessen the harm of the online world," Raden said. "We should also take care of our waste in order to fight climate change and to save the earth from trash," Raden said.

She collects about 100kg of waste each week, which is then sorted out by her colleagues and sent for recycling or sold. She has around 6, 000 books to lend and wants to take it to neighbouring areas as well.

Kevin Alamsyah, an 11-year-old reader, searches for waste lying in the village. "When there is too much trash, our environment will become dirty and it's not healthy. That's why I look for trash to borrow a book," he says.

The literacy rate for above 15-year-olds in Indonesia is around 96 percent, but a September report by the World Bank warned that the outbreak of COVID-19 will leave more than 80% of 15-year-olds below the minimum reading proficiency （技能） level identified by the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development.