Back in my day, we thought swimming pools were supposed to burn your eyes and turn your hair green. I remember coming home from the community pool in Worcester smelling like I'd been dunked in a bottle of bleach, and my mother would make me shower in the basement because the <a href="https://zeroemissionjourney.com/natural-swimming-pool-design-chemical-free-water-features/"><a href="https://zeroemissionjourney.com/natural-swimming-pool-design-chemical-free-water-features/">chlorine smell</a></a> was so overwhelming. "At least you know it's clean," she'd say, as if that chemical assault was the price of sanitation.
Turns out we were completely wrong about that.
Four years after my husband passed, I was visiting my cousin Margaret in Austria – she'd married a nice German fellow back in the seventies and never came home. She's got this gorgeous property outside Salzburg, and when she showed me around the backyard, I stopped dead in my tracks. There was what looked like a perfectly clear pond, maybe twenty by thirty feet, with people actually swimming in it. Not just wading or splashing around the edges, but proper swimming laps.
"Margaret," I said, "please tell me there's some kind of hidden chlorine system I'm not seeing."
She laughed so hard she nearly choked on her coffee. "Donna, it's plants. Just plants and bacteria doing what they've always done. No chemicals whatsoever."
I'm not ashamed to admit I thought she'd lost her mind.
The water was impossibly clear – clearer than any pool I'd ever seen back home. You could see straight to the bottom, which had to be at least six feet deep. There were these beautiful aquatic plants growing around the edges and in what looked like a separate section connected to the main swimming area. Water lilies, some kind of rushes, things I couldn't identify but were obviously thriving.
"Go ahead," Margaret said, "stick your toe in."
I expected… I don't know, slime? That murky feel of pond water? Instead, it felt incredibly soft and clean. No chemical smell at all. Just fresh, clean water that somehow stayed that way without a single drop of chlorine or any of those other harsh chemicals we'd always assumed were necessary.
By the end of that week, I was swimming in it daily. First time in years my skin didn't feel dry and tight after getting out of a pool. My hair didn't smell like a chemistry lab. And I started asking Margaret a million questions about how the whole thing worked.
Turns out this wasn't some newfangled invention. Europeans have been building these natural swimming pools since the 1980s, using the same biological processes that keep lakes and streams clean. The basic idea is brilliantly simple – you create a system where plants and beneficial bacteria do all the work of purifying the water that chemicals normally do.
Margaret's pool had two distinct areas, though they flowed together so naturally you barely noticed the separation. The swimming zone was just like a regular pool – deep, clear water with no plants to get in your way. But connected to it was what she called the "regeneration zone," which was basically a constructed wetland filled with carefully chosen aquatic plants.
Water circulated between these two areas constantly. As it passed through the planted section, the plants and millions of microscopic organisms living in the root systems grabbed onto all the nutrients and particles that would normally feed algae or harmful bacteria. It's like having a living filter system that never needs replacing.
When I got home to Boston, I became completely obsessed. Started reading everything I could find about natural swimming pools, which wasn't much back then – this was before you could find anything online. Had to order books from Germany, most of them barely translated into English. Even tracked down a designer in Vermont who'd started building them here in the States.
The more I learned, the more it made sense. We'd been fighting against natural processes for decades, dumping chemicals into water to kill everything living in it, then wondering why our skin and eyes couldn't tolerate swimming for more than a few minutes. These natural pools work with biology instead of against it.
My neighbor Tom thought I'd completely lost it when I started talking about installing one. "Donna," he said, "that's just a fancy pond. You're gonna have mosquitoes, algae, probably snakes."
But the research told a different story. Properly designed natural pools consistently test cleaner than chemically treated ones. The moving water doesn't attract mosquitoes. The balanced ecosystem prevents algae blooms. And yes, occasionally you might see a frog, but considering the alternative is swimming in what amounts to diluted bleach… well, I'll take the occasional frog.
The community garden where I volunteer was looking to do something with this unused corner of the property, maybe a quarter-acre that was just weeds and old compost piles. I probably should have kept my mouth shut, but at a planning meeting I heard myself suggesting we build a small natural swimming pond.
Dead silence around the table.
Then Mary Chen, who runs our vegetable program, said, "You mean like those pools in Europe? I saw something about that on a nature documentary."
Before I knew it, I was volunteered to research the whole thing and come back with a proposal. Spent three months putting together what amounted to a college thesis on natural swimming pool design, complete with cost estimates, maintenance requirements, and environmental benefits. Even called Margaret to get photos of her pool through all four seasons.
The board approved it. I'm still not sure how that happened.
Finding someone to design and build it was the next challenge. Natural pool construction is still pretty specialized here, not like in Germany where every third landscaper knows how to build one. Eventually found a company in New Hampshire that had done a few residential installations and was willing to work with our budget and volunteer labor force.
The design phase was fascinating and terrifying. We had to calculate water circulation rates, select plants based on our New England climate, figure out the right ratio of swimming area to filtration area. Turns out there's serious engineering behind what looks like a naturalistic water feature.
Our excavation weekend was… well, it was something. Twenty-three volunteers showed up with shovels, including my grandson Jake who was home from college. We moved probably fifteen tons of dirt by hand over two days, creating the deeper swimming area and the shallow planted sections. My back still reminds me of that weekend when it rains.
But watching it come together was magical. The rubber liner going in – EPDM, same stuff they use on commercial buildings – then the specialized growing medium for the plants, then the careful installation of the small circulation pump. When we finally started filling it with water from the garden's well, I got genuinely emotional watching that hole transform into something beautiful.
The planting day was even better. We'd ordered native aquatic plants from a specialty nursery in Connecticut – water lilies, pickerel rush, water mint, these underwater plants called hornwort that look like miniature Christmas trees. Each plant had a specific job in the filtration system. Some pulled nutrients directly from the water. Others provided surface area for beneficial bacteria. The underwater ones added oxygen.
Our pond designer, Sarah, explained it like this: "Think of it as an ecosystem in balance. Every plant, every microbe has a role. When everything's working together, harmful bacteria can't get a foothold because all the nutrients they need are already being used by the plants and good bacteria."
We made mistakes, of course. Our first pump was too small, and we got some algae issues early on. Took us two tries to get the water circulation right. And I underestimated how much work the falling leaves from the big oak tree would create – had to install a much better skimmer system before the second fall season.
But even with our amateur construction, the system worked. About three months after we finished, the water suddenly cleared to this gorgeous blue-green color. The plants established themselves and started growing like crazy. And the first time I actually swam in water that plants had cleaned… it was like that moment in Margaret's pool all over again, but this time I understood what was happening.
The water felt completely different from any pool I'd ever been in. Soft somehow, with no chemical smell or that tight feeling on your skin afterward. And knowing that everything keeping it clean was alive, was part of a functioning ecosystem we'd created, made swimming feel less like exercise and more like… I don't know, like participating in something natural and right.
Three years later, our little community pool has become the heart of the garden. Kids love splashing around in the shallow end while learning about aquatic plants and insects. Older folks like me enjoy peaceful morning swims surrounded by dragonflies and water lilies. Even in winter, when only the truly hardy (or foolish) attempt swimming, it remains a beautiful focal point.
The maintenance has been much simpler than everyone feared. Once a month during swimming season, a few volunteers check the pump filter, remove any debris, trim plants as needed. The whole system uses about 60% less electricity than a regular pool would need, and obviously there are zero chemical costs. Our biggest ongoing expense is replacing the small pump every few years.
People ask me all the time about the water quality, especially parents worried about their kids. We've had it tested multiple times by independent labs, and it consistently meets or exceeds public health standards for recreational water. One lab technician actually called to double-check what kind of water body we were testing because the results showed fewer harmful bacteria than most chemically treated pools they analyze.
The environmental benefits go way beyond avoiding chemicals, though those are significant. No chlorine production, transportation, storage, or eventual release into groundwater. Much lower energy consumption. And we've created genuine wildlife habitat – our pond attracts frogs, birds, beneficial insects, all the creatures that conventional pools exclude.
But the real revelation has been how much better swimming feels in living water. No stinging eyes, no bleached hair, no dry skin. The diverse plant life creates this multi-sensory experience you can't get from a sterile chemical system. There's something profoundly satisfying about floating on your back, watching dragonflies hover above water lilies, knowing the same natural processes that have cleaned water in lakes and streams for millions of years are working right beneath you.
I've become the unofficial local expert on natural pools, fielding questions from neighbors and garden club friends. The most common concern is algae, which I understand – we've all seen stagnant ponds covered in green scum. But a well-designed natural pool prevents algae through competition, not chemicals. The plants and beneficial bacteria use up all the nutrients that algae need to grow.
Cost is the other big question. Our community project cost about the same as a high-end conventional pool would have, but the ongoing expenses are much lower. No chemicals to buy, less energy use, simpler maintenance. Over the pool's lifetime, the savings add up considerably.
Natural pools aren't perfect for everyone, I'll admit. If you absolutely must have 80-degree water year-round or can't tolerate the occasional water beetle, stick with conventional systems. The water clarity, while excellent, does vary slightly with seasons and weather in ways that chemically controlled pools don't.
But for those willing to work with natural processes instead of against them, these pools offer something remarkable. They transform what would typically be an ecological dead zone into thriving habitat that provides joy for both swimmers and wildlife.
Our community pool has taught me that some of the most elegant solutions come from working with nature rather than trying to control it. Modern life offers few opportunities to directly experience natural systems working as they should. Every time I swim in our pond, surrounded by the plants and creatures that keep it clean, I'm reminded that cooperation usually works better than domination.
Now if you'll excuse me, it's an unusually warm March day, and there's a dragonfly-patrolled pool calling my name. At my age, you don't pass up good swimming weather.
Donna’s retired but not slowing down. She spends her days gardening, reusing, and finding peace in simpler living. Her writing blends reflection with realism—gentle reminders that sustainability starts at home, in daily habits and quiet choices.
