Fresno-area farmer finds life lessons in the mystery of the shrinking backyard pool

We have an old rectangular pool built in the 1950s. Not many family farms were blessed with an in-ground pool at that time. It came with the farm when our family purchased it from the Riffels in the 1960s.

The pool is large, measuring 40 feet by 20 feet and stretching from 3 to 9 feet deep, with a small child’s wading pool. The Riffel family was not wealthy or audacious. They were our neighbors, and we grew up together as kids playing out in the fields. They believed in family. They had built the pool when one of the children contracted polio and needed physcial therapy. The family committed to a regular exercise routine for rehabilitation and recovery. The pool is a reminder of an epidemic from our recent past and how a family responded positively while trying to do good.

Last summer the pool developed a leak. A slow, gradual lowering of the water level, a methodical and painful inch-by-inch dropping of the water level day by day. At first I thought it may be due to extreme heat and climate change, but it continued for weeks after each time I re-filled it. We had a problem.

It took a while to realize I had slipped into denial. During the past two years, I had drifted into the habit of not asking questions. The pandemic had filled our lives with more unknowns than knowns. Why bother to ask when there were few clear answers about our immediate futures? I distanced myself from many issues, wanting to ignore the drip, drip, drip, and instead hunkered down as we were advised.

But the leak did not go away, so I slowly began to explore possible sources. The skimmer? The water inlet lines? The pool light? Of course, a leak must come from a bad seal! Or not. Alas, the waterline continued to drop and drop. Another day, another week, and a gradual depletion.

Searching for an explanation exposed my ignorance about how pools work. My quest to uncover the origin made me ask more questions. I became curious, and in a twisted way, inspired: each day was filled with a mystery and not just a problem.

Every few days, another line stain appeared on the sides of the pool and made me feel guilty. Perhaps it was the next lower possibility — a crack in the wall, a hidden bulge in the plaster — all promising clues. Withdrawing from this puzzle did no good. I accepted that there was no simple answer. (Besides, I didn’t have many choices — pool companies were swamped during the pandemic when hundreds of homeowners opted to repair and renew their pools with families stuck at home).

In the end, the water level sank to the main drain and even then, continued to decline into the darkness. The source remained a mystery.

This spring we finally had the entire pool repaired. New tiles, new surfaces, new pumps and lines. No leaks. And ironically, even the last suspect — the main drain — was capped and no longer needed in our new modern pool design.

So I never learned where the leak was and that’s OK. My lesson from the last two years: some things may not have a clear answer. I will live with unknowns, like farming and family. This is life! This is normal!

David “Mas” Masumoto is an organic farmer near Fresno and author of several books, including “Epitaph for a Peach.” He can be contacted at masmasumoto@gmail.com.