From Pippi to Pine Trees: Astrid Lindgren’s Natural Legacy

November 14, 1907

On this day, dear readers and fellow admirers of literary landscapes, we celebrate the birth of a true enchantress of words: Astrid Lindgren, the Swedish writer whose tales have blossomed in the imaginations of children for generations.

Astrid Lindgren would go on to cultivate a garden of stories so vast and vibrant that it would make even the most ambitious horticulturist green with envy. With more than 30 books to her name, including the beloved Pippi Longstocking series, Lindgren's literary flora has spread far and wide, with a staggering 165 million copies sold.

As of January 2017, she stood as the fourth most translated children's author, her works taking root in hearts and minds across the globe, trailing only behind such literary giants as Enid Blyton, Hans Christian Andersen, and the Brothers Grimm.

But it is not merely for her prolific output that we gather in our literary arbor today. No, it is for Lindgren's deep-rooted love of nature and her ability to weave the beauty of the natural world into the very fabric of her stories. Like a master gardener tending to her plots, Lindgren cultivated worlds where flowers sang, and trees played melodies.

Consider, if you will, this exquisite passage from her book, Mio, My Son:

He turned to the Master Rose Gardener and said something even more peculiar,

"I enjoy the birds singing.

I enjoy the music of the silver poplars."

Can you not almost hear the rustling of those silver leaves, the sweet trills of birdsong? And in Most Beloved Sister, Lindgren paints a picture of a world where nature's silence heralds a poignant farewell:

Then the flowers stopped singing and the trees stopped playing, and I could no longer hear the brook's melody.

"Most Beloved Sister," said YlvaLi.

"When Salikon's roses wither, then I will be dead."

Oh, how she intertwines the cycles of nature with the rhythms of human life! And let us not forget the charming folk wisdom she shares in Bullarbyn, where the maid Agda reveals a Midsummer night's ritual: climbing nine fences, picking nine different flowers in utter silence, and dreaming of one's future husband.

One can almost picture young readers eagerly attempting this floral divination in their own gardens.

But perhaps most delightful of all is the image of Lindgren herself, at the sprightly age of 67, scaling a pine tree in her front yard. Challenged by her 80-year-old friend Elsa, Lindgren embraced her arboreal adventure with characteristic wit, quipping:

There's nothing in the Ten Commandments forbidding old ladies to climb trees, is there?

One can almost hear the laughter rustling through the leaves at this joyous defiance of age and convention.

And finally, let us ponder these words of Lindgren, which speak to the very heart of our connection to the natural world:

In our unknown past we might have been creatures swinging from branch to branch, living in trees.

Perhaps in the deepest depths of our wandering souls we long to return there...

Perhaps it is pure homesickness that makes us write poems and songs of the trees...

Is this not the very essence of why we garden, why we nurture plants, why we climb trees even in our twilight years?

Are we not all, in some way, reaching back to our roots, seeking connection with the green world that birthed us?

So, dear readers, as you tend to your gardens or curl up with a beloved book, remember Astrid Lindgren.

Let her words inspire you to see the magic in every flower, to hear the music in every rustling leaf.

And perhaps, if the mood strikes you, don't hesitate to climb a tree or two. After all, there's nothing in the Ten Commandments against it, is there?