Second paragraph of third story ("The Fillyjonk Who Believed in Disasters" / "Filifjonkan som trodde på katastrofer"):
Then she soaped and rubbed further, to the next blue stripe, and the sun was warming her back, and she stood with her thin legs in the clear water, rubbing and rubbing. Sen tvättade hon till nästa blåa rand och solen värmde hennes rygg och hon stack ner sina smala ben i det genomskinliga vattnet och gnodde, och gnodde.
These are really superb little chunks of Moominland, not at all whimsical, but dark and thoughtful pieces that speak to adults trying to make sense of an imperfect world. The funniest perhaps is the last one, "The Fir Tree" ("Granen"), in which the Moomins, who normally hibernate, are woken up for Christmas and try to make sense of it. But my favourite is "The Secret of the Hattifatteners" ("Hatifnattarnas hemlighet"), in which Moominpappa abandons home and family to try and find some extra meaning in life, and ends up in a confrontation with dark and incomprehensible forces. I must have first read it when I was seven or eight, and it hit me then quite differently to how it hits me now. But they are all good. You can get it here. (It’s really cheap.)
This was my top unread sf book on the shelves (though I confess to tweaking my system – I had read it first over forty years ago). Next up is Dark Lord of Derkholm, by Diana Wynne Jones.