How 'Sidewalk Joy' Kiosks Deliver Happiness and Community

Little Free Libraries are truly magical. This brilliant idea of placing a tiny "take a book, share a book" repository in one's front yard was hatched by a Wisconsin teacher in 2009. Since then, more than 150,000 of the small structures have popped up in 120 countries — and over 300 million books have been shared, promoting literacy, encouraging neighborliness and strengthening communities.

Well done. Very well done.

But why stop with books and literacy? What if this approach could be used to inspire art, creativity, imagination — and just plain fun?

A growing number of visionary folks in Portland, Oregon have asked — and answered — these questions. They've taken the Little Free Library (LFL) concept a step further by devising their own quirky yard kiosks offering free exchanges of everything from toys, seeds and comics to vinyl LPs, puzzles and rubber duckies. The results are ingenious, enchanting — and, yes, just plain fun.

While some of these destinations have been around for a decade or more, many surfaced during the pandemic. (There's an equation for this phenomenon: Boredom + time = creativity.)

Such was the case for Portlander Rachael Harms Mahlandt. As the parent of two small children during the lock-down, desperate for creative outlets and outdoor adventures, Harms Mahlandt sussed out several of these clever displays around town for the family to visit. Kids — and Mom —loved them. Duly inspired, Harms Mahlandt designed and constructed her own installation—a "dinorama" (diorama with tiny dinosaurs instead of people) and a "dino exchange" in 2022.

She created an Instagram account to chronicle her efforts. While visiting other similar offerings around town (and posting links) Harms Mahlandt met and befriended Grant Brady who had devised his own sidewalk contribution, a FLAG. (FLAGs are Free Little Art Galleries — think art instead of books — begun in Seattle in 2020. Another brilliant idea!).

The two decided they should put together a map of all of these playful spots around the city. By January 2023, they'd dubbed the phenomenon "Sidewalk Joy" and posted their directory.

That first map had 26 locations. As of this writing the number has swelled to 62. Joy, it seems, is contagious.

Harms Mahlandt defines Sidewalk Joy as "curated galleries, exchanges and displays that are installed in curb gardens, front yards or sides of buildings with the sole objective being to bring a bit of interactive whimsy and inspiration to the community."

"Whimsy and inspiration" are just the tip of the iceberg of perks that these delightful displays provide. Like their LFL counterparts, these installations are a magical way to bring neighbors together, cultivate new friendships and promote community, according to Harms Mahlandt. They foster creativity and curiosity, and spark the imagination.

And they're therapeutic as well. "In so many different ways, they nourish the soul," she explains.

What does Sidewalk Joy look like in real life? Basically, anything goes.

Among the five-dozen-and-growing destinations are numerous FLAG locations, as well as multiple jigsaw puzzle, seed and tiny toy "libraries." Within these categories, each exhibit is distinctive; each is one-of-a-kind. Grant Brady's FLAG installation, for example, includes a diorama of an art museum with tiny humans browsing the miniature exhibits — which you're welcome to take home with you. One of the many puzzle libraries is magically, perpetually rosemary-scented. The Car Library (a tiny toy car exchange) is actually made from salvaged vehicle parts. Each offering is as unique as its creator.

And then there are those that are outside these outside-the-box offerings. There's the Little Free Fibrary where DIYers can swap yarn and other fiber-arts supplies. At the Poetry Pottery Box folks will find inspirational verse imprinted on ceramic. Visitors are encouraged to leave an original poem —which might end up on a piece of pottery in a few days. A Community Apothecary offers "handcrafted herbal remedies" and organic produce. Its credo is "give when you can, take what you need."

See? The sky's the limit.

Not all Sidewalk Joy kiosks were inspired by the LFL movement. The family behind the simply-named Sidewalk Ducks had rubber ducky party favors left over from a child's birthday. They put them on their sidewalk and wrote in chalk, "Take a duck." Someone came along and took two ducks— and left a bigger one. The family changed the message to "Take a duck, leave a duck."

That was twelve years ago. Sidewalk Ducks is still going strong.

And not all Sidewalk Joy destinations are "take one, leave one" exchanges either. Many are simply delightful displays that are dedicated to a higher purpose for lawns — beyond, you know, grass and flowers. There's a free mini-golf course (clubs and balls provided). There's the block-long Elfinland, outfitted since 2012 with a tiny hotel, theater, amusement park, hospital and more, all fit for Lilliputians. And Farcical Flamingos, a quartet of the pink birds positioned doing silly human things, like drinking from Solo cups while playing volleyball.

And there are the wishing (and gratitude and goal and poem) trees that welcome passers-by to share their dreams, hopes and prayers.

Efforts to curate directories of these delightful destinations are heating up. Community-minded souls in Portland's sister city to the North (fun-loving Seattle) recently compiled their own "Seattle Sidewalk Joy" guide — the map creators admit that the "name and format (were) stolen shamelessly from" the Portland co-founders — with 90+ locations.

Back in Portland, Harms Mahlandt and Brady are busily adding more "joy" to their ever-growing directory. They allow anyone to suggest a destination but ask that it be interactive (like those "take one, share one" exchanges) or that it be a display that is updated regularly. And, if they're "libraries," they must include items other than books. Harms Mahlandt and Brady vet each addition to ensure that descriptions are accurate and that the owners, indeed, want to be included on the map.

Harms Mahlandt is devoted to spreading the movement's virtues of creativity, community and simple joie de vivre. "It's a dream to continue to help more Sidewalk Joy spots get started in Portland and beyond," she adds.

Of course, instances of playful, quirky sidewalk brilliance and artistry need not be on a list somewhere. You've probably seen these "micro doses of whimsy" (as Harms Mahlandt calls them) in your own neighborhood: The collection of action figures arranged near a flower bed. The diminutive door on a tree stump with its equally tiny welcome mat. The painted rocks with inspirational messages ("Don't give up!" "Believe") bordering a driveway.

This is what lawns were meant for.

Marie Sherlock practiced law for a decade before turning to writing and editing in her 30s — and never looked back. She's worked as the editor of several publications and is the author of a parenting book (Living Simply with Children; Three Rivers Press). She spends her empty-nest days writing about travel trends and destinations, simplicity, spirituality and social justice issues. Read More