We didn't have a "drinking gourd" when I was growing up, and I always felt deprived ... in the early years, at least.
Instead, we had a common aluminum dipper (we all drank from the same dipper) beside the water bucket in the kitchen.
Germs aside, it offered a cool, refreshing drink, when the weather was cool, refreshing. During the summer, as I recall, we went directly to the source, the cistern just a few steps from the back porch, to fill the dipper.
The "drinking gourd," on the other hand, resided at a neighbor's house on a nearby hill. Judging from the frequency of our visits, they were probably distant relatives.
They had a well which, I thought, contained the coldest water around.
And that gourd, that marvelous old weather-beaten gourd. I just had to have a drink from it, even when I wasn't thirsty.
Oh, how I remember sipping slowly, dawdling, while enjoying both the cold water and the great shade of the tree near the well.
CUP OF MEMORIES
The well water
was never colder
nor more sweet tasting
than when it was sipped
from an ordinary,
but memorably special
gray gourd dipper.
(originally published in Capper's)
Today's word: dawdling