“Astrid, she’s my best friend in the whole world. Dad is also my best friend, but he’s my dad, so it doesn’t count. But Astrid, she certainly counts, “says Vera from Windflower Lane about Astrid from Blackberry Path.
Both of them live in the small town, Mumble Town, where there is only one baker to buy bread in, and a single, and very small, grocery store to buy cheese and butter. But it’s wonderfully nice in Mumble Town in anyway. You see, Mumble Town is surrounded by a large forest, far out in the countryside and right down to the ocean. And here’s stuffed with good places to play and the kids are great at making things and games up. Especially Astrid. Sometimes she’s a little too good at it. Just like she’s too good at making up stories. But you know, they are not all exactly true. But what does it matter when you can smell of freshly baked muffins and the blackbird sings in the pear tree in the garden?
In Mumble Town we follow the year as it goes by, together with the city’s residents and especially the city’s children. We participate in buckthorn hunting in the troll trees in the autumn.
Imagine that the trees have got that name because somebody says that they were actually really trolls.
In the winter there will be ice skating on the flooded frozen meadow. And if you’re brave enough, you can take a sting along the small streams of the forest. In the spring, the whole forest becomes light green and you can see the Pentecost sun dance from the forest’s largest hill, called the Moon Scraper. And when the summer comes alive, new potatoes are dug up until the nails are completely black, and the swallow droplets that pear on the forehead of just exertion are rinsed in the salty sea water off the coast. In Mumble Town there’s time. Time to sit on a bench and dangle with the legs and figuring out to go on an apple hunting. Time to discover Astrid’s mother’s sewing room. Time to fold the lantern and brew the snaps and listen to the ocean waves and sniff to the flowering roses.
It’s the place where The Bog Wife still brews, Freja, the old goddess, might live in the shelf, and The Nix was once even seen down in the valley of Sparrows. But there are also the “holy” ones. Those who deal with more-and-less worth. The mournful freaks and the grumpy people. But the children don’t care. Especially Astrid. They find their own ways to trick them and still be caring, and with the imagination in order, things all end up usually pretty good.