How Pocket Parks Are Changing Cities Across the Southeast
Brady Pocket Park is small. Located at the confluence of Brady Avenue and Howell Mill Road in Atlanta, the park clocks in at 2,300 square feet—about the same size as the average single-family home in America. Tiny as it might be this gathering space is part of a massive movement sweeping the Southeast.
According to Adeline Collot, program director at the Upper Westside Community Improvement District in Atlanta, an increasing number of cities are downsizing their public greenspaces as land becomes more scarce and expensive. What results are “pocket parks”—small-scale recreation areas tucked into alleyways and street corners where community members can read in the shade, play frisbee, or stretch after a run.
“A pocket park, or parklet, is a small publicly accessible gathering space,” Collot says. “Think of it as a micro-park, usually no more than a few thousand square feet.”
Collot’s team partnered with public, private, and philanthropic entities to build Brady Pocket Park in 2019. Previously, the 2,300-square-foot parcel was mostly asphalt. But with some elbow grease and vision, they transformed the lot into a smartly appointed space with chairs, bench seating, and greenery.
Additional projects have followed. There’s the Huff Hill Transit Parklet, a 350-square-foot sitting area tucked off the main drag. There’s also the Metropolitan Atlanta Transit Authority (MARTA) Mobility Pocket Park, a 0.1-acre parcel furnished with picnic tables, a swing, and cornhole boards.
“Each pocket park fits into our urban fabric and helps create a sense of place,” says Collot, who describes these communal spaces as a “solution to filling the park deficit.”
Lincoln Larson, an associate professor of parks, recreation, and tourism management at North Carolina State University, seconds this view. “Pocket parks,” he notes, “represent an innovative solution for cities that are trying to think of new ways to revitalize vacant or deteriorating spaces.”
Pocket parks are not a new solution. These community spaces began emerging in Europe in the 1940s. Desperate to restore urban areas wrecked by World War II, cities started building neighborhood parks. But since labor and materials were limited, they kept the parks pretty small—the size of a vest pocket, one might say.
In the early 1950s, this concept rowed its way across the pond and caught the attention of American city planners. By 1965, New York City had 18 pocket parks and 200 more in the planning phase. Meanwhile, Philadelphia had 60 in operation and another 60 in the works.
Today, more cities than ever are incorporating pocket parks into their designs. Just last summer, the Myrtle Beach Downtown Alliance in South Carolina announced plans to transform a vacant lot into a mini-park with a community library; Raleigh, N.C., unveiled a whimsical, parking spot-sized space with mushroom stools and a colorful mural; and the West Virginia city of Wheeling received grant funding to turn an unoccupied alley into a tiny sitting area.
This increased interest in pocket parks comes from a place of practicality: Because undeveloped property is limited, cities must make do with brownfields, utility and public right-of-ways, and other awkward slivers of land. But city planners are also realizing that pocket parks can make the outdoors more accessible. That’s according to Scottie McDaniel, an assistant professor of landscape architecture at the University of Tennessee, Knoxville.
As McDaniel explains, “Public space is not distributed evenly across urban neighborhoods.” Because of redlining and racial covenants, whiter, higher-income areas tend to have better, more accessible parks. Consequently, about one in three Americans don’t have greenspace within a 10-minute walk from home, as reported by the Trust for Public Land.
McDaniel sees pocket parks as an “opportunity for balancing outdoor public space across the urban environment.” In other words, these micro-parks have the power to bring outdoor recreation to underserved neighborhoods.
Why does this matter? Because improved park access is good for everyone. Studies show that people who live near a pocket park tend to exercise more and have less stress. Pocket parks can also lower crime rates and decrease traffic. They can help the planet, too.
“A series of pocket parks have the potential to contribute greatly to our urban diversity of flora and fauna,” says McDaniel. “They can also improve our stormwater systems by slowing, holding, and cleaning water within the urban fabric.”
All this to say, pocket parks are tiny but mighty. Collot has learned this firsthand during her time heading off projects in Atlanta.
“Creating pocket parks is like choosing the right accessories to go with an outfit,” she says. “They can really elevate an area despite their small size.”
Four Small Parks in the South
What does the perfect pocket park look like? We chatted with four experts to find out and then roamed the region looking for itsy greenspaces that checked all the boxes.
Women’s History Park
Franklin, North Carolina
Pocket parks should be designed to “match the local culture,” says Aaron Hipp, a professor of community health and sustainability at North Carolina State University. The Women’s History Park in Franklin, N.C., does just that.
A pocket-sized pavilion nestled in the heart of Franklin, the park features “Sowing the Seeds of the Future,” a sculpture of a female pioneer, enslaved woman, and Cherokee matriarch who were all connected by a plot of nearby land. The space also serves as the trailhead for the Women’s History Trail, an educational footpath winding through town.
Everly Brothers Park
Knoxville, Tennessee
Pocket parks should “provide spatial variety,” says Scottie McDaniel, an assistant professor of landscape architecture at the University of Tennessee, Knoxville. Put plainly, they should look nice.
Everly Brothers Park, a tiny tribute to American rock duo Don and Phil Everly, checks that box with brick pathways, neatly manicured lawns, a small stage, and a border of sumac trees. The City of Knoxville has also installed informative plaques so visitors can learn more about the musicians.
Howell Junction Pocket Park
Atlanta, Georgia
Pocket parks should serve the unique needs of the surrounding community, says Adeline Collot, program director at the Upper Westside Community Improvement District in Atlanta. Howell Junction Pocket Park answers that call and then some.
Outfitted with bike racks and a bike tune-up station, this 3,500-square-foot space caters to city dwellers who cycle. After pedaling through rush hour, two-wheeled commuters can tinker with their rigs, eat a snack on the custom bench, or just catch their breath under one of the 13 newly planted trees.
Union Street Pocket Park
Danville, Virginia
Pocket parks should be accessible, says Trenda Leavitt, a licensed landscape architect who went to great lengths to meet accessibility standards when designing Union Street Pocket Park in Danville.
“We achieved universal access with a glass-enclosed elevator, which has a small footprint…and is integrated into custom fabricated steel stairs,” she explains.
According to Leavitt, the elevator is a “beautiful means of accessing the park,” which packs a punch with lots of modern seating, a small grove of trees, a fountain, and other cool features.
Cover photo: Brady Pocket Park in Atlanta is a tiny oasis with big charm. Photos courtesy of the Upper Westside Community Improvement District
