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Serenbe, near Atlanta, blends nature, wellness, and community. With 70% land conservation, farm-to-table living, and intentional design, it fosters intergenerational connection and mindful living.
When I arrived at Serenbe , it was really the land that greeted me first–tall trees swaying in chorus, the smell of morning dew, the hush between homes and a softness in the air that felt like a deep breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. In a world where speed is the norm, Serenbe offered stillness. This was community, reimagined and rooted in connection, farm-to-table food, personality, wild lawns and an embrace of the untamed.
Just south of Atlanta, located in the Chatahoochee Hills, Serenbe stands as a living experiment in biophilic design, where connection to nature is at it’s core. What began as one family’s search for a life in rhythm with the land has bloomed into a thriving village where 70% of the acreage has been protected under a land trust from the beginning. Conservation was far from the afterthought. In fact, it was the blueprint, according to the founder Steven Nygren. Nygren has spent decades shaping Serenbe into a place where the built environment works in harmony with its natural surroundings. In turn, everyone in the community carries an innate sense of stewardship. When I spoke with Nygren his passion was unmistakable, his joy palpable– as if the community had opened only yesterday. His vision extends beyond Serenbe’s borders; his upcoming book offers a glimpse into how anyone can bring elements of this philosophy to their own backyard.
Could this be the model we need to return to something more grounded? A life less defined by screens and schedules, and more by the rhythms of nature and human presence. It reminded me of my own childhood when kids played in the woods, creativity was tactile and shared and the space between generations wasn’t defined by walls, but rather shared experience.
What struck me most was the intentionality of it all. Homes face the forest. Every neighborhood is organized around a theme; play, food, art, wellness, education. Health and wellness is at the center of it all, with wellness studios, holistic yoga and an on-site agricultural farm that is accessible to both the folks living in the community and outside of it. Children roam freely, and elders are embraced as essential members of the community. In Serenbe, they don’t cage the elderly or corral children. It’s intentionally set up in a way that allows them to cross paths, share space and breathe the same open air.
The Montessori-inspired school encourages curiosity through experience and not just textbooks. They realized play and nature cannot be overlooked when it comes to healthy and happy kids. One-third of the school day is spent outside. Roads are named after memories and moments, and businesses, from the medical practitioners to Minro Studio (the potter’s café) operate within the community’s ecosystem– often outside traditional systems like the FDA.
Food here is the foundation to the community. There’s an on-site organic farm, farm animals, horses, walking trails and many homes have edible landscaping. Amongst one of my favorite on-site food spaces, Bamboo Juices makes 100% organic cold pressed juices and tonics to keep you feeling your best and they’re delicious, too. At the Farmhouse restaurant, the chef adjusted my meal to be fully vegan. I can still taste the cauliflower soup made with produce from the garden, fresh truffles, and local pear, paired with Sancerre. It was a small gesture, but one that echoed the core values of the place: adaptability, care and nourishment.
Serenbe isn’t perfect. Few communities are. Its model, while inspiring, isn’t widely accessible just yet. But what matters is the intent. As the founder told me, “Intent is what’s needed to make things happen, and that’s it.” They’re not building a utopia. They’re building a prototype for living with the earth, not on top of it.
When I left Serenbe, I carried more than memories. I carried questions. What if our neighborhoods were designed to help us slow down? What if children grew up knowing where their food came from, not just intellectually, but viscerally? What if we didn’t age in isolation? What if we oriented our lives around the land and treated it as sacred?
This is the experiment Serenbe is running, quietly, beneath the Georgia pines. And even if you never live there, the signal it sends is clear: we don’t just long for nature; we long to belong within it. And any honest attempt to make that real is worth paying attention to.
