The Miyawaki Method: Ecology, Stratification, and Personal Discoveries

When I was tasked with supervising a garden inspired by the Miyawaki method, I felt the need—first and foremost—to deeply explore the vision and principles of this Japanese botanist. I had heard about his innovative approach, but I wanted to go beyond the surface, understand the scientific and ecological foundations behind it, and assess its effectiveness in a Mediterranean context.

The Miyawaki method was developed in the 1970s and is based on detailed studies of phytosociology—that is, the observation and classification of spontaneous plant communities in different environments. Every plantation created with this approach begins with a careful analysis of the site and its potential natural vegetation: the species that coexist spontaneously in the area are identified, along with their ecological relationships, and the dynamics among dominant trees, understory plants, shrubs, and groundcovers.
The goal is not simply to plant trees, but to reconstruct miniature ecosystems with a rich variety of native species structured across multiple layers.

One of the most distinctive (and often misunderstood) aspects of the method is its extremely high planting density: on average, three plants are planted per square meter—not three trees, but three individuals representing the different layers of a natural forest. This density fosters strong competition among the plants, accelerating growth and promoting a dynamic balance. However, success requires several crucial steps: selecting compatible species, adapting them to local soil and climate, preparing the soil with amendments, and providing intensive care during the first three years, including protection from pests and diseases.

In his writings, Miyawaki contrasts his method with two traditional forestry approaches.

The first is monocultures of conifers or fast-growing exotic species, used for timber or industrial purposes. While productive, these plantations are ecologically fragile: shallow root systems make them vulnerable to wind, heavy rain, fire, and disease. Moreover, they often contribute to a gradual loss of biodiversity.

The second approach is ornamental planting, aimed at aesthetically imitating nature. Miyawaki describes how, during the Edo period, imperial lands were covered with lush, harmonious forests that embodied an ideal form of natural landscape. Initially reserved for the elite, these aesthetic ideals soon inspired common people to recreate similar beauty in their own gardens.
Ornamental groves and landscaped gardens emerged, designed for visual appeal by selecting the most beautiful, rare, or symbolic plants. While visually striking, these spaces lacked true ecological balance: they required constant maintenance and rarely provided effective protection against soil erosion, heavy rainfall, or wind. In other words, they were “domesticated” representations of forests rather than functional ecosystems.

The Miyawaki method offers a third way: regenerating green spaces quickly, enhancing biodiversity, and recreating real ecological relationships between plant species.
One of the aspects that struck me most is the centrality of spontaneous coexistence among plants. Ecological compatibility—not just botanical—is the guiding principle: it’s not enough for a species to be native; it must also be able to collaborate, resist, and adapt to others within the same system. This idea resonates deeply with my personal gardening philosophy: working with nature, not against it, fostering balanced relationships—even within artificial garden settings.

At the same time, studying the method encouraged critical reflection. Some studies show that, after about ten years, competition among plants can become so intense that it leads to high mortality and, in certain cases, even reduces the initial biodiversity. As with any approach, awareness, context, and adaptation are essential.

In the case of the garden I was supervising (Read more here), it was immediately clear that a literal replication of the method would be impossible: the supplied trees were already developed, often large, and the timeframe was limited. My goal then became to translate the principles of the method into an adapted, communicable version—one capable of sparking curiosity in visitors and, perhaps, encouraging them to explore the approach further.

And that is exactly what happened.