The Archipelagoes of Green in the City

In the centre of the cemetery, under the tree canopy, it is easy to forget that Netherlee Road runs just the other side of the old stone wall or that the Sainsbury’s in neon orange can be seen from the top of the hill. The shroud of foliage, home to the marmalade hoverfly and goldcrest, is a welcome archipelago of green in the city.

Scotland is one of the most nature depleted countries in Europe with less than 3% of the land considered as wild. The recent State of Nature Report concluded that in the past decade alone, 43% of species have experienced significant decline. This is largely due to habitat loss from things like intensive farming and urbanification which leave no space for nature to follow its own rhythms. We are teetering on the edge of climate disaster. Rewilding land can help to steer us away from that. But in order to do so, 1 in 4 of us must take action. Wild land isn’t about the absence of people, but the presence of nature taking the lead.

Cathcart Cemetery is what the Victorian’s designed and defined as Garden Cemeteries. They gave burial a new atmosphere; somewhere between a park and a sculpture garden which allowed relatives to spend quality time amongst loved ones – both dead and living. What the Victorians didn’t account for was the limited amount of burial space. These garden cemeteries eventually had to stop accepting people meaning their income dried up and left no money for upkeep.

But this seeming disaster allowed nature a moment to begin healing. Some cemeteries closed and were later transformed into parks. Before this, there was little impetus to bring green space into the heart of cities. These garden cemeteries became the ancestors of our modern public parks. Cathcart Cemetery was one of the many that was simply left to time. In its quiet neglect, the cemetery is slowly becoming what the city needs most: a wild place.

Across the UK, projects are beginning to reimagine these spaces. At Arnos Vale in Bristol, rewilding has brought over 1,000 species back to a once-neglected Victorian cemetery. Morningside Cemetery in Edinburgh has become a haven for invertebrates like the graveyard beetle and red-legged shieldbug. In Woodnewton, villagers turned their churchyard into a biodiverse sanctuary. It’s a testament to what can grow when people come together with purpose.

We’re still a long way from wild land here, but the idea of allowing cemeteries to return to nature is beginning to take root and it feels like a hopeful first step. As time passes and visits become less frequent, a quiet shift begins. Fewer mourners come, and a new question stirs: what might this land become now?

This is sacred ground: a resting place for people and sanctuary for nature. Here, space is protected from development, safe from the threat of concrete and commerce. In a city where every inch is accounted for, commodified, or contained, cemeteries are among the few spaces where nature can simply exist: quietly, without agenda.

It’s not without controversy. At a glance, this place can look neglected. And yes, there is care that could be given. But perhaps now is the time to rethink what care means. A gentler balance is possible: one that honours the cemetery not only as a place of memory, but as a living landscape. I’m hopeful we can begin work that reflect this dual identity, nurturing Cathcart Cemetery as both a site of cultural heritage and a quiet refuge for nature’s return. In doing so, we allow the past to coexist with the future, and let life grow gently in the spaces between.