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The Tradition of Swedish Seed Catalogs

The personal account by Elsa Rensfeldt Larsson from Luleå, Norrbotten, beautifully illustrates how the anticipation for frökatalogerna—seed catalogs—has become a cherished winter tradition in Sweden. While the commercial and sometimes overwhelming spirit of Christmas fills homes with glossy magazines and tempting offers, Elsa finds herself resistant to the barrage of “svulstiga tidningar med julprylar och klappar till strålande priser.” Instead, she saves her anticipation for a very different kind of holiday arrival: the seed catalogs that promise renewal far beyond the glitz of Christmas.

This is no new sentiment. The tradition of the Swedish seed catalog stretches back to the 18th century, when Johan Ahlich published Sweden’s first in 1720. By the late 19th century, catalogs from gardens like the Bergianska botanical garden in Stockholm became annual events, connecting gardeners across the country with a wide array of vegetable and flower seeds. Through decades, seed catalogs have become part of Sweden’s seasonal heartbeat, especially in the long, dark months when hope for spring feels far away.

A Historical Lifeline from South to North

Elsa’s vivid description, “Mitt hem är min borg men varje morgon låter det som om brevbäraren tryckt in hela sig genom brevinkastet med bunten av reklam,” reveals how, even today, paper catalogs are eagerly awaited—just not the commercial ones. Historically, seed catalogs served a much more essential role: they connected Sweden’s rural and urban gardeners from Skåne in the south all the way up to Norrbotten, Elsa’s home, allowing them to order everything from rare potato varieties to kitchen vegetables. By the 1900s, many of the varieties listed would sound unfamiliar now, relics of an agricultural heritage that catalogs helped document and, for a time, preserve.

As communications improved in the 19th century, the distribution of these catalogs spread further north, making it possible even for gardeners on the wintry edge of Sweden—like Elsa in Luleå—to dream and plan their summer gardens alongside those in milder regions.

Seeds as Symbols of Hope

For Swedes, especially those living where “vintern uppenbarligen beslutat sig för att sätta sig tillrätta,” seed catalogs are more than practical—they are promises. Like Elsa says, they are the grown gardener’s “jultomten,” a parcel full of hope and possibility, as exciting as any childhood gift. The long wishlists that emerge from these catalogs reflect dreams of flourishing gardens, a stark contrast to the snow and cold outside the window.

Elsa’s ritual—avoiding the December “julgrejset” in store entrances and instead looking forward to her favorite garden magazines—mirrors a larger tradition. Reading and re-reading seed catalogs by winter lamplight, garden lovers weave dreams of clover and timothy filling meadows, flowers nodding in the breeze, and the warm light of July—“när klöver och timotej fyller ängarna och trädgårdarnas blommor vajar i sommarbrisen.”

Preserving Heritage and Diversity

This tradition has gained extra significance as Sweden's plant diversity faces challenges. The spread of commercial seed and decline in home seed-saving led to the loss of many local varieties. Researchers and institutions continue the work to safeguard these genetic resources, but, as Elsa notes, “det kan bara bli bättre” as each spring brings new chances to plant and preserve.

Companies like Impecta Fröhandel, founded in 1975, addressed this problem directly, seeking out seeds from beyond Sweden to enrich the catalog offerings for Swedish gardeners. From a tiny six-page black-and-white pamphlet, Impecta grew to be the heart of new gardening dreams—proof that even modest catalogs can change gardening culture.

Modern-Day Meaning: Resistance and Renewal

For Elsa and countless others in Sweden—especially in northern regions where “parkerna står pyntade med ljusslingor i träden” and the sun barely rises in winter—the seed catalog is a gentle act of resistance against the pressure to consume. “Julprylar,” she writes, are no match for the pleasure of imagining next year’s garden. And as she considers treating herself to “mysiga dyra blommagasin” and English gardening magazines as her own Christmas gift, Elsa resumes a distinctly Swedish way of coping with winter: kindness, self-care, patience, and a quiet belief in renewal.

Her advice is simple: fill the holiday not with things but with moments—“stunder av vila och sköna intryck”—and trust that experiences will outlast gifts. As Elsa wisely concludes, “klappar förgår, upplevelser består, snart är det vår!” The tradition of the Swedish seed catalog isn’t just about plants. It is a subtle, enduring cultural practice—a celebration of resilience, a nod to heritage, and, most of all, a shared hope for brighter days.