Tove Jansson

Tales from Moominvalley by Tove Jansson

ToveOne calm and cloudless evening, towards the end of April, Snuffkin found himself far enough to the north to see still unmelted patches of snow on the northern slopes.

He had been walking all day through the undisturbed landscapes, listening to the cries of the birds also on their way northwards, home from the South.

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