I love anything to do with Folk Art. Music, hand work, dialects… all of it. It’s the culture, old customs, stories told by warm fire while outside the snow is covering the world. It talks about people, their modest way of life, hopes, love, the weather, harvest.
It reminds me of my grand mother, old warm worn out hands, smell of clothes after laying on a brick oven, handmade socks, old soft white cotton sheets, patched blankets, warm bread, peeling of fresh peas, slippers with holes, cold beds with hot-water bottles. So yes, good old times.
