Published : 03 Feb 2019, 22:06

From Astrid to Lindgren and the sequel to From Astrid to Lindgren, a synopsis by Kurt Peter Larsen & Vladimir Oravsky, may in part or in entirety be copied or otherwise be reproduced, electronically, mechanically, in analog or digital form and digitally, or telepathically or through other as yet unknown means, on paper, plastic, tape, or other known or future substance, in Braille, in sound or image form; it may also be set to music, dramatized, be filmed or put on video, be animated or transformed to ballet, mime presentation, or musical, oratorio, or opera. It may also be used in relation to advertising, for purposes of agitation and propaganda. However, a written agreement with the copyright holder (© Vladimir Oravsky) concerning the abovementioned is required. 
CHAPTER 1: The farm, Näs, Vimmerby, Småland, summer 1926
High up in the owl tree Astrid could follow life down on the farm, Näs, where she lived. She saw the barn, the cow pasture, the pigsty, all the places where she liked to play so much when she was younger. All the memories. Soon, very soon, this would be over. Certainly she would be sad, yet the new thing had its appeal. The school. And the child. The child she was carrying and that was to going be born in Copenhagen. For so it was decided. Still, her father knew nothing. No one had told him. Not Astrid, not anyone else; but most of them were aware of it, this well-kept secret.
Her brothers and sisters were running around like giddy chickens. There was Stina and Ingegerd, and there was Gunnar, but he was a little older so he didn’t run as much. Samuel August, Astrid’s father, had come out of the yellow house with the white porch to hoist the flag on the pole. Ingegerd, Astrid’s little sister, was worried. From the tree above you could hear the little girl questioning Samuel August.
“Papa! Papa! Have you seen Astrid?”
“Little lady, I’m actually a little busy here. I think I just saw Astri out in the cow pasture.”
“Ninny! Why, I just came from there,” shouted the little girl, and sighed.
“In that case…,” mumbled Samuel August, and continued attaching the flag to hoist it.
Astrid followed Ingegerd’s light steps as she ran across the farmyard to Grandma, who was sitting rocking in the hammock.
“Grandma! Have you seen Astrid?”
“Where at?” Ingegerd was impatient, as impatient as only a child can be.
“Oh, you know, here and there, I guess.” 
“But most recently, Grandma, where did you see her last?”
The old woman looked full of imagination. “Last? Well, I probably saw her last …”
Ingegerd jumped up and down. “Yes?”
Then the woman brightened up. “Yesterday!” She laughed and continued rocking quietly while Ingegerd went on running.
Gunnar, Astrid’s older brother, came striding across the farmyard. Ingegerd soon reached him and tugged at his pant leg.
“Have you seen Astrid?”
“I saw her a while ago in the barn,” replied Gunnar, with a sly smile.
Then came Stina, another of Astrid’s sisters.
“And I saw her in the orchard.” Astrid laughed when she heard the discussion transformed to a cacophony of questions and answers down there in the yard.
Gunnar thought a while and scratched his head. “I also saw her, for that matter, out in the field.”
“You guys are all hopeless! Pelle!” Ingegerd shouted when she caught sight of Petrus Larsson, the hired man, who came walking across the yard with a bag on his back. He put the bundle down on the ground and dried his forehead with a handkerchief.
“Pelle! Have you seen Astrid?” asked Ingegerd, and looked up at the powerful man.
“Astri? Ain’t she in Stockholm?”
“Dimwit, why, she’s not going there till today!”
“Really. Well, she could have said so right off! If there wasn’t nothing else, then …. The hay ain’t goin’ to bale itself, and this good weather ….”
“Heck!” sighed Ingegerd.
The hired man bent down and lifted up the bag over his shoulder again.
“And then the Mister don’t seem … ,” he mumbled.
Samuel August turned around and looked crossly at the young hired man.
“If you’re suggesting, Pelle …”
“And not Gunnar, either, in fact,” continued the hired man, as if he hadn’t heard anything.
“It’s certainly not every day that Astri goes to Stockholm either!” hissed Samuel August.
Pelle, who was not afraid to be confronted by the head of the house, looked impertinently at the older man.
“He should say that when the hay’s rotting in the field! Or when the cows are bawling from hunger on into winter!”
Samuel August nodded.
“That’s good, Pelle.”
Gunnar went over to his father.
“He’s just sayin’ what Papa himself usually …” 
“Today is Astri’s day, so there!” replied Samuel August. And thus ended the discussion before it developed into a quarrel. 
(to be continued...)
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