Welcome to the eighth week of the summer series of Little Windows. Bite sized peeks at historical objects that tell stories of global connections, creative encounters and adaptations. Each piques my curiosity and creativity, and I hope will do the same for you.
A little window to open once a week.
Harvest
For weeks we've watched tractors methodically work back and forth through the fields here. Hay bales have been collected and we've passed numerous lorries scattering the stuff, (each time prompting is to sing ‘Hey’ by the Pixies). The stubby remains of the corn harvest are starting to brown. Last week my son brought back a wheelbarrow full of onions from the allotment. This week he returned with a sweetcorn so buttery fresh that he ate most of it before I had a chance to cook it. He glowed golden with pride (as did his Papa) and the baby was kept occupied for almost an hour nibbling until she was left with nothing but a husk. The act of growing, tending, observing, nurturing is a gift beyond measure.
It made me remember one of the most intriguing finds I came across when hunting for breastfeeding artefacts.