Temperatures hug zero degrees, but the cars keep arriving. Roughly 150 people make their way through unpaved roads on a blistery winter weekend in Sturgeon Lake, Minnesota, banjos and potluck meals in tow.
Enter a weekend of pure folk.
Woolsock is an annual celebration of Midwest winter—and the dancing, old-time music-making, and community building that can (and does) still happen in the gray hues of early January.
For the last three years, Woolsock has nestled into the cabin-dotted (or tents, if you’re braver than I) woods of YMCA Camp Miller. For two nights, people of all ages from across the Midwest (including myself and my mom!) cohabitated last weekend, learning waltz numbers or the art of silkscreen printing. We got lessons in darning socks, banjo picking, and how to not dance on each others’ bare-footed toes.
The lowkey-but-very-spirited festival is the brainchild of Kyle Orla of Duluth, Minnesota. He summarizes Woolsock: “Hangin’ out, workshops, and tunes.”
Running it along with his partner, Cooper Orla, the weekend now sells out in less than a week. It’s a far cry from its roots, starting out nearly a decade ago with just 40 participants; more and more folks gear up to warm up, year after year.
Why?
“I think we need something to do in the winter,” he says.
What is Old-Time Music Anyway?
“… People don’t know what that means. They’re just like, ‘old … music,’” says Kyle, a folk guitarist and fiddler himself.
Which isn’t exactly wrong, but there’s more to it.
Predating bluegrass music, old-time music roots span across Africa and Europe. It often features the fiddle, banjo, harmonica, upright bass, and maybe a harmonica or mandolin. Think: music that gets you moving.
North American old-time music comes with its own unique culture of accompanied dance like square dancing and clogging. Songs carry stories and traditions.
But mostly, I noticed them carrying a very down-to-earth fellowship.
“It’s community. And it’s like, the most joyful type of event that I’ve been to,” Cooper says.
I witnessed that rampant joy in moonlit sauna heart-to-hearts, in stargazing down by the lake, in seven-year-olds’ smiles as they hopped around schottische-style. It’s hard not to in a place where you’ve held nearly everyone’s hand in dance.
I walked in with a half-working banjo from Facebook Marketplace that I didn’t know the first thing about. Two days (and so much delicious soup) later, I could comfortably strum a few tunes. I thank an impromptu lesson from a couple of new friends in a small corner near the utility room. Now that’s folk!
All this came to be from a simple idea: Let’s do something—anything—in the winter, and make it fun.
“If you have a dream, just do it. ‘Cuz that’s what this was. Just make it happen,” Cooper says. “We love it.”
