Along the concrete-lined canals of South Florida, a quiet revolution in coastal infrastructure is bringing life back to what architect Keith Van de Riet calls "a forgotten edge"—the collapsed intertidal zone where land meets water.
In Pompano Beach, nature-inspired mangrove planters now cling to a residential canal seawall, their textured surfaces etched and grooved to mimic oyster reefs and mangrove root systems. Where smooth concrete once repelled marine life, tiny pores and crevices now offer refuge to organisms that form the foundation of coastal ecosystems. "Even these tiny little pores you get, those are little pockets that tiny organisms will start to take up residence in," Van de Riet, a professor at the University of Kansas, told NPR.
The project addresses a conservation crisis hiding in plain sight. South Florida's post-World War II building boom lined thousands of miles of coastline with concrete barriers, obliterating the intertidal zones where juvenile fish shelter, oysters filter water, and countless invertebrates sustain the marine food web. Now, as those aging seawalls reach the end of their lifespan, property owners face a choice: replace them with smooth steel or vinyl alternatives that offer no ecological value, or integrate habitat-supporting features that restore biodiversity.
Van de Riet's design demonstrates that infrastructure need not destroy nature—it can support it. The planters feature two living mangrove trees mounted directly on the seawall, their root systems extending into the water. The textured concrete surfaces mimic natural oyster reef formations, providing attachment points for filter-feeding organisms and hiding places for small fish and crustaceans.
The stakes extend far beyond one canal in Pompano Beach. According to a 2021 study, only approximately 15% of the world's coastal regions remain ecologically intact. Urbanization, dredging, and armoring coastlines with hard structures have eliminated vital habitat across continents. Yet millions of people live along these modified shorelines, making wholesale removal of seawalls impractical.
In nature, as across ecosystems, every species plays a role—and humanity's choices determine whether the web of life flourishes or frays. The Florida seawall project shows that even small design modifications can restore ecological function to human-dominated landscapes. The textured surfaces create microhabitats. The mangrove planters filter water and provide nursery habitat. Together, these features transform a biological desert into productive marine habitat.
Similar "living seawall" projects are emerging globally, from Seattle's Elliot Bay Seawall to Sydney Harbour's artificial rock pools. Each demonstrates that coexistence between human infrastructure and marine biodiversity is achievable when designers consider ecological needs from the outset.
The success of these projects depends on replication. Marine construction company owner Arthur Tiedeman installed the Pompano Beach planters, demonstrating that habitat-focused designs are technically feasible and buildable by existing contractors. As coastal communities worldwide invest billions in climate adaptation infrastructure, integrating habitat features into seawalls, breakwaters, and pilings could restore marine biodiversity at scale.
For oyster populations declining across Florida's urbanized coasts, for juvenile fish seeking shelter in barren canals, and for the countless organisms that depend on complex intertidal habitat, these redesigned seawalls represent more than architectural innovation. They represent recognition that human infrastructure can nurture rather than destroy the ecosystems that sustain us all.
The forgotten edge need not remain forgotten. With each textured surface, each artificial mangrove root, each tiny pore that welcomes marine life, coastal communities can reclaim the biodiversity lost to decades of smooth concrete—one seawall at a time.
