All-Natural Ice Pool

By Margaret Gilmour

Five months after visiting Nancy Adler’s all-natural swimming pool, I called Nancy to see if I could go back and walk around the icy water and witness its frigid presence.

I wondered: would it be frozen solid?

Nancy welcomed us once again, always eager to share her love for the chemical-free oasis. Even if she wasn’t home, she said, please stop by.

Leslie and I chose a bitter-cold morning in early January to visit. Turns out, Nancy wasn’t in, so the two of us shivered in the biting wind and made our way up the hillside to the pool.

There, thin streams spilled from water-spouts not totally iced-over. Even with the gusting wind, though, the sound of the cascades drenched the landscape. The only other noise came from the neighing horse trotting in our direction, perhaps to check us out. Or maybe just to add to the symphony.

We both stood a moment taking in the tranquil winter scene, then set about shooting pictures before our hands begged for the warmth of our mittens again.

The pool wasn’t frozen over. Glacial patches floated in the moving waters of the blue-green lagoon, while thick blocks of ice swelled from the surrounding stonewalls. Nancy chose to leave the regeneration zones flowing this winter, so there will be no ice-skating this year.

When it’s this cold, Nancy says, she doesn’t stay out by the water for long. I can see why, as we stand in the chill, unprotected from the wind.

In the fall, however, the Adler’s stay warm close to the flames of their portable fire pit, and enjoy the scenic bliss from the stone patio. Plans are to build an in-ground pit next season.

Before heading out, I made my way around to the backside of the swimming zone where three dried cattails waved in the breeze, and the switch grass (Panicum virgatum “North Wind”) stood tall and golden, looking like a crop of dried wheat.

My favorite winter centerpiece was the brown-stemmed goldenrod (Solidago “Golden Fleece”). I’d never guess this was the same plant that flowers yellow in autumn (I called landscape architect Jonathan Alderson, who deigned the gardens, to help me identify this plant).

This view—with the horses staring at me from their shelter—and the sun mirrored in the water below, was my favorite.