On the corner of Fort and Vancouver Street in downtown Victoria stands a quiet yet impactful building that sparked my interest in passive design. At first glance, it blends in, but look closer, and its thoughtful design reveals itself.

1007 Fort Street is a mid-century modern commercial building, now used primarily for office space. What sets it apart is its intentional use of passive and biophilic design strategies that enhance occupant well-being. The ground level is wrapped in lush landscaping, connecting the structure to nature, while an interior landscaped courtyard welcomes you the moment you step inside.

Sunshades on the exterior reduce glare and control heat, and every office benefits from abundant natural light. Terraces and outdoor views further blur the line between indoors and out. The building is BOMA BESt Level 2 certified, recognizing its energy efficiency and environmental performance.

This building doesn't just serve its function—it elevates it. It proves that thoughtful design can improve productivity, comfort, and connection to nature.

Wouldn’t you want to work in a space like that?

Is it just an overgrown hilltop—or a hidden fortress from which to rule a kingdom below? Using found materials like wood, moss, sticks, and grass, my children and their friends built what they call “the forts.” A series of secret hideouts, these structures allow them to observe friends and neighbors passing by, all while remaining unseen. It’s a space where their imaginations thrive—creating a secret world, both literally and figuratively.

To those walking by, it might look like nothing more than a wild patch of land. But beneath the surface, it’s alive with creativity and play.

Often, the places adults overlook or deem useless are the ones that hold the greatest potential for children’s play. As more abandoned lots and natural spaces disappear due to development, the chance for this kind of imaginative exploration is shrinking. Before we assume a space has no value, we should take a moment to consider how a child might see it.

The Japanese Pavilion at Esquimalt Gorge Park in Victoria holds a rich and important history. In 1907, Japanese Canadian entrepreneurs Hayato Takata and Yoshitaro Kishida created the first Japanese garden and tea house in Canada right in this park. Designed by Isaburo Kishida, it featured stunning elements like cherry trees, wisteria trellises, and a tea house, celebrating Japanese culture and offering a peaceful space for all.

During World War II, the garden was destroyed by vandals, and its creators were forcibly displaced along with many other Japanese Canadians, reflecting a dark chapter of racism and injustice in Canada’s past.

In 2022, a new pavilion was built, thoughtfully incorporating elements of the original garden, like a reflective pond and wooden features, to honor this heritage. It’s not just a beautiful space—it’s a place of healing, remembrance, and education, encouraging us all to reflect on the injustices of the past while moving forward together.

Working within Canada’s calm yet engaged communities presented initial challenges. However, our vision of connecting with the local community through rooftop gardens soon laid the foundation for lasting, positive change. From the start, our goal extended beyond creating green spaces—we aimed to foster a lifestyle rooted in nature, urban harmony, and human connection.

Our commitment to delivering a standout project grew stronger with encouraging feedback and visible results. Rooftop gardens are more than aesthetic features; they offer everyday value—places to breathe, relax, and come together.

These spaces promote a peaceful atmosphere amid dense urban environments, while also strengthening neighborly bonds and enhancing social interaction. Designed with sustainability in mind, they inspire environmental responsibility and help reduce the isolation of city life by encouraging community.

Today, witnessing the social and environmental impact of our work reinforces our belief in the transformative power of thoughtful landscape design. It motivates us to continue creating spaces that not only beautify, but also connect and uplift communities.

I love this gargoyle-ish character in the gardens at Government House. I kick off each year's Movember campaign by doing a selfie with it. I did it the year I started and it feels like it has become a kind of spirit animal for me. It is an image on my journey to mental health. I love how people leave little offerings of flowers as if it were a creature in some animist shrine.

At first glance, the corner of Pandora Avenue and Government Street draws attention with its striking red dragon sculpture by Burnaby artist Ping Tsing. This bold, hand-carved symbol of prosperity marks the original entrance to Victoria’s Chinatown. What many passersby may not realize is that a powerful element of this public space lies beneath their feet. The paving tells an “unseen” story of cultural endurance and connection.

An undulating wave of coarse aggregate alludes to the Johnson Street Ravine, a natural divide once used to physically and socially separate Chinese immigrants from European colonists. At the residential entry, large concrete pavers symbolize the bridge that spanned that divide. These subtle gestures, often overlooked, speak volumes about the layered histories embedded in the urban landscape. Bamboo-inspired fencing and salvaged architectural fragments from buildings associated with exclusionary practices further root the site in memory. Together, these elements transform the space into a quiet map of resilience, inviting those who pause to read the ground.

Designed with support and guidance from then-City Councillor Charlayne Thornton-Joe and then-City Planner Mickey Lam in .

In our first conversation about their new work-at-home space, we stood next to a wonderfully massive bedrock outcrop dominating most of their backyard. The family told me how they especially loved the shape of a glacier eroded fold in the rock, and the sound of the rain flowing down it.

With no room in the backyard to avoid the rock and no desire from anyone to just blow it up, the space had to, in a way, become a part of the rock. Loose slabs were carefully shorn off to accentuate the fold. These stones were then repurposed to make a wall that follows the curving shape of the fold itself into the space, embracing the work area. This heaviness of the wall roots the flowing wood and glass structure into the landscape and supports a living roof with a diverse array of sedums, grasses, and flowers native to the area. This process of learning to live with our beautiful rocks has become integral to our work and is how this space, eventually called the 'Grotto' house, found its name.