It’s raining. Not so much cats and dogs as deer and antelope. Real rain. Prairie rain. The overflow on our rain barrel pours into a row of lilacs. My little garden beds drink it in. There are unconfirmed reports of the first tornado of the season south of us and pictures of funnel clouds posted on social media. Hail too. Thank goodness that missed us. Moose Jaw seems to be in a protected bubble.
Gerry arrives home from a class at the fitness center in time for lunch. Leftovers from the previous night’s salmon for him, a bowl of instant noodles for me. He sits at the dining table and sets up the chess board while I putter in the kitchen.
”Do you want to go to the spa this afternoon,” he asks.
Next week will mark six months since we became Moose Jaw residents and we haven’t visited the geothermal mineral pool at Temple Gardens across from Crescent Park in downtown Moose Jaw yet. We enjoyed it when we visited Moose Jaw before we had an inkling of moving here (though I always had a secret longing). It seems like a good way to spend a gray and wet afternoon.
I’m out of practice at spontaneity though. The past few months of regular trips back and forth to Caronport have put me into a bit of a rut. I glance at the clock. Will we have time?
We will, of course, and so we decide to go after lunch. I feel almost giddy as we park on Langdon Crescent across from the park and dodge raindrops to get to the door of the hotel where the spa is located. Ah yes, I remember this feeling.
We get the senior rate and there’s another price reduction for seniors who come between certain hours midweek. We sign up and become resort club members at no extra cost. It’s good to be seniors.
And so, we soak. And chat. Moving from the indoor waters to the outdoor, and back inside again a few times. It’s relatively quiet, with less than a handful of other seniors in the water. Quiet. Until a foursome of young people arrive, one young woman particularly garrulous. We move back to the inner pool.
It’s time well spent. Respite in the middle of an afternoon. Almost as good as floating—who am I kidding? It’s nice, but not nearly as satisfying as 90 minutes floating in a sensory deprivation chamber. A close second. We agree to do this more often—at least until the busy summer season kicks in and we become “those” locals who look forward to the quiet of off-season.