#FOLK

[mutter-official]

Tom Morello The Nightwatchman is folk-adjacent and might be a good addition

New silly little project

[vintage-russia]

Svetlana Kachanova in a festive Mansi costume,Lombovozh village, Russia (1970s)

[razz-is-queer]

first draft of a new song i wrote called “another poem about you”

lyrics below:

i’ll paint my nails a pretty shade of vermillion

i’ll look at your paintings and see myself in their hues

i’ll think about you for hours on end

i’ll write another poem about you

you’re like the smell of hyacinths in the morning

you’re like the first orange leaf fallen from a tree

you’re like a garden full of everything i love

so i’ll write another poem about you

you’re my dorian grey

you’re my raven at the door

you’re my lilac

you’re my orpheus

you’re my magnolia

so i’ll write another poem about you

[iamdadab]

051124

Azuléjos

2024

Victor Marqué

[everoutoftouch]

If you have Spotify reblog this and tag what your number one song on your “on repeat” playlist is.

[bashieashie]

I just think medieval snail ladies are neat.

[thirea]

Polish folk Hatsune Miku because there is a trend going on twtr

[365filmsbyauroranocte]

Penda's Fen (Alan Clarke, 1974)

[renegade-hierophant]

Slovak traditional highland axe dance

EDIT: If you'd like to play a character like these guys in a video game, check out Hellish Quart.

[hairtusk]

'Wool waulking is a traditional Scottish process of finishing and strengthening newly woven woolen fabrics. It is a significant social and cultural activity, often carried out by women in the Highlands of Scotland. The Gaelic songs that are sung during waulking have a distinctive rhythmic pattern that aids in synchronising the work.'

(Video and text via Inverness Outlanders)

[hiort]

wanted to join the miku trend too, ukrainian miku inspired by poppy flowers ✿

[baddywronglegs]

Around the world today, the penumbra of the rising of the first sun of May is lined with onlookers and wellwishers, eyes on the eastern horizon to catch the first glimpse of a new season.

Because in our hearts, this is how summer returns to the northern hemisphere; this sun a baton passed in the annual relay as the south prepares for what winter may bring.

Among our number, where the hilltops flatten enough for people to trust their feet in the gloom, for over a century now morris dancers have set out in the fading dark to dance in the dawn, for the same reason we do anything: because it's what we do. That's all tradition is, after all.

And every year, alongside the bells, a passage from Terry Pratchett's Hogfather rings in my mind.

"The sun would have risen just the same, yes?"

NO.

"Oh, come on. You can't expect me to believe that. It's an astronomical fact."

THE SUN WOULD NOT HAVE RISEN.

...

"Really? Then what would have happened, pray?"

A MERE BALL OF FLAMING GAS WOULD HAVE ILLUMINATED THE WORLD.

And so, every year, follow the sound of bells and sticks, the chorus of voices singing Hal And Tow, and you'll find a bunch of knackered weirdos in the middle of nowhere in daft hats and a chill breeze, but proud of what they've done.

After all, we just made the sun rise.

[vintage-russia]

Young owl in the forest,Russia (1910)

Photography by Sergey Prokudin-Gorskiy (1863-1944)

[onemorecupofcoffee]

[o-rb]