Hello,
And welcome back to Drift Off.
I'm Joanne,
And I'm so glad you're here with me tonight.
However you've arrived at this moment,
Whatever the day held for you,
You made it through.
And now my friend,
You can set all of it down.
This time is yours.
Tonight we're continuing with Chapter 3 of Heidi,
By Johanna Speedy.
But before we begin,
Let's just take a moment to settle in.
So make yourself as comfortable as you can.
Let your body feel heavy and supported wherever you're resting.
And if you need to shift or adjust,
Do that now.
When you're ready,
Gently close your eyes.
Take a slow breath in.
And a long,
Easy breath out.
Let your shoulders drop.
Let your hands go soft.
And again,
Breathe in and out,
A little slower this time.
And as you continue to breathe slowly and deeply,
With each breath out,
Feel the day beginning to loosen its hold on you.
There is nothing you need to hold onto right now.
Nothing you need to figure out or remember or do.
Just this breath.
Just this moment.
And whenever you're ready,
Let's continue the story.
Chapter 3.
Little Bear and Little Swan.
Heidi woke the next morning feeling very happy.
As she lay there,
She remembered all the things she'd seen the day before,
And knew she would see them again today.
Most of all,
She thought with delight of the deer goats.
She jumped quickly out of bed and pulled on her clothes,
Which didn't take long as there weren't many of them.
Then,
She climbed down the ladder and ran outside.
Peter was already there with his flock,
And the grandfather was just bringing his two goats out of the shed to join the others.
Heidi ran forward to say good morning to him and to the goats.
Do you want to go up the mountain with them?
Asked her grandfather.
Nothing could have pleased Heidi more.
She jumped for joy.
The grandfather went back inside and called to Peter to follow him and bring his wallet.
Peter did so,
Looking a little puzzled,
And set down the small bag that held his meager lunch.
Open it,
Said the old man.
He put in a large piece of bread and an equally large piece of cheese.
Peter's eyes went wide.
Each piece was twice the size of his own portions.
Now,
There's just the little bowl to add,
The grandfather continued.
The child can't drink her milk straight from the goat the way you do.
She isn't used to that.
Milk two bowlfuls for her at dinner time.
She'll be going with you and staying until you come back this evening,
But mind she doesn't fall over any rocks,
Do you hear?
They set off up the mountain full of joy.
Heidi ran this way and that,
Calling out with delight.
Here were whole patches of soft red primroses,
And there the bright blue gleam of gentian,
And above them all the golden cistus knotted and swayed on its delicate stems.
Enchanted by the waves of colour all around her,
Heidi forgot even Peter and the goats.
She ran ahead,
Then off to one side,
Then the other,
Drawn first by a flash of glowing red and then by a burst of yellow.
All the while she gathered great handfuls of flowers and tucked them into her little apron.
She wanted to take them all home and press them into the hay so that her loft bedroom might look just like the meadows outside.
Peter had his work cut out.
His eyes,
Which didn't move very quickly at the best of times,
Were stretched to their limits,
Because the goats were just as lively as Heidi.
They scattered in every direction,
And Peter had to whistle and call and swing his stick to round up the strays and keep the flock together.
At last they reached the spot where Peter always stopped for the day,
A broad green area at the foot of the high rocks.
For some distance up,
The rocks were covered with bushes and fir trees.
Above those,
The bare and rugged peaks rose steeply into the sky.
On one side,
The rock was split into deep clefts,
Which was exactly why the grandfather had warned Peter to be careful.
Peter unslung his wallet and tucked it into a small hollow in the ground,
Knowing well what the wind could do up here.
One strong gust could send it rolling down the mountainside.
Then he stretched himself out on the warm grass and was soon fast asleep.
Heidi unfastened her apron,
Rolled it carefully around her flowers,
And laid it next to Peter's wallet in the hollow.
Then she sat down beside a sleeping figure and looked around her.
The goats were climbing among the bushes on the rocks above.
Heidi had never felt so happy in her life.
She breathed in the golden sunlight,
The fresh cool air,
And the sweet scent of flowers,
And she wished for nothing more than to stay there forever.
Then a loud,
Harsh cry rang out from somewhere above.
Heidi looked up and saw a bird,
Larger than any she'd ever seen,
With great spreading wings,
Wheeling slowly in wide circles overhead,
Letting out a sharp,
Piercing call.
Peter!
Peter!
Wake up!
She cried.
Look at that great bird!
Look!
Look!
Peter sat up at her shout,
And the two of them sat together watching as the bird climbed higher and higher into the blue sky,
Until it disappeared behind the grey mountain peaks.
Where has it gone?
Asked Heidi,
Who had followed every movement with total fascination.
Home to its nest,
Said Peter.
Its nest is up there,
Right at the top.
How wonderful to live so high.
But why does it make that noise?
Because it can't help it,
Peter explained.
Let's climb up and find its nest,
Said Heidi.
Oh,
Oh,
Said Peter,
Each exclamation more disapproving than the last.
Even the goats can't climb that high.
And besides,
Didn't your grandfather say you weren't to fall over the rocks?
Peter suddenly began whistling and calling out at the top of his voice.
Heidi couldn't imagine what had come over him,
But the goats clearly understood,
Because one after another,
They came springing down from the rocks until the whole flock was gathered together on the green plateau.
Heidi jumped up and ran in and out among the goats,
Laughing as she went.
She had never seen them all playing together like this before.
Meanwhile,
Peter had taken the wallet out of the hollow and laid the bread and cheese out on the ground in a neat square.
The two larger pieces he placed on Heidi's side,
The smaller ones on his own,
For he knew perfectly well which were his and which were hers.
Then he took the little bowl,
Crouched beside the white goat,
And milked it full of fresh,
Warm milk.
This he set down in the middle of the square.
Stop running about,
Peter called out.
It's time to eat.
Come and sit down.
Heidi came and sat herself down.
She looked at the bowl,
Then up at Peter.
Is the milk for me?
She asked.
Yes,
Said Peter,
And the two large pieces of bread and cheese are yours as well.
When you've drunk that milk,
You can have another bowl full from the white goat,
And after that,
It's my turn.
And which goat do you get your milk from?
Asked Heidi.
From my own,
The pie-balled one.
But go on and eat now,
Said Peter,
Reminding her again.
Heidi picked up the bowl and drank.
As soon as she set it down empty,
Peter got up and filled it again from the white goat.
Heidi broke off a piece of her bread and then held out the rest,
Still larger than Peter's whole piece,
Along with her entire slice of cheese.
You can have these,
She said.
I've had enough.
Peter stared at her,
Too astonished to speak.
He hesitated,
Unable to believe she really meant it.
But Heidi kept holding the food out,
And when he still didn't take it,
She simply laid it on his knees.
That settled it.
He saw she was perfectly serious,
Seized the food,
Nodded his thanks,
And proceeded to eat the best meal he had enjoyed since becoming a goat herd.
Heidi,
Meanwhile,
Kept her eyes on the goats.
Tell me all their names,
She said.
Peter knew them by heart.
He pointed to each goat in turn and told her the name,
And Heidi listened so carefully that it wasn't long before she could tell them apart herself and call each one by name,
For every goat had its own ways that were hard to mistake.
There was the great Turk with his big horns,
Always trying to butt the others,
So that most of the flock scattered when they saw him coming and wanted nothing to do with him.
Only Greenfinch,
Small,
Slender,
And nimble,
Was bold enough to stand her ground,
Rushing at him three or four times in a row without flinching.
Then there was Little Snowflake,
Who bleeded in such a soft and fleeting way that Heidi had already run to her several times to cup the little face in her hands and offer comfort.
Just then,
The same plaintive cry rang out again.
Heidi jumped up,
Threw her arms around Snowflake's neck,
And asked gently,
What is it,
Little Snowflake?
What's the matter?
The little goat pressed close against Heidi and stopped crying.
From where he sat,
Still working through his bread and cheese,
Peter called out,
She cries like that because her mother's gone.
She was sold down at Mayenfeld the day before yesterday and won't be coming up the mountain anymore.
Who was her mother?
Heidi called back.
Her mother,
Of course,
Said Peter.
And her grandmother?
She hasn't won.
And her grandfather?
She hasn't won either.
Oh,
Poor Little Snowflake,
Said Heidi,
Drawing the small animal close.
Don't cry anymore.
I'll come up here with you every single day from now on,
So you won't be alone.
And whenever you need anything,
Just come to me.
The goats had begun climbing the rocks again,
Each finding its own way to the plants it liked best.
Some jumped boldly over everything in their path.
Others picked their way slowly,
Nibbling at good leaves as they went.
The Turk still gave the occasional poke with his horns.
Little Swan and Little Bear moved with particular grace,
Stepping lightly on their slender legs and always finding the finest bushes to nibble at.
Heidi stood with her hands behind her back and watched it all closely.
Peter,
She said to the boy who had stretched himself out on the ground again.
The prettiest goats of all are Little Swan and Little Bear.
I know,
Said Peter.
Alm Uncle brushes them down and washes them and gives them salt.
He has the nicest shed for them,
Too.
All at once,
Peter leaped to his feet and ran hard after the goats.
Heidi ran after him,
Too curious to stay behind.
He was dashing toward the far side of the mountain where the rocks dropped away sharply to a great depth below,
A place where a careless goat could easily fall and break its legs.
He had spotted the bold green finch making her leaping way into that very direction,
And he reached her only just in time.
She had already sprung to the very edge of the drop.
Peter threw himself down and seized one of her back legs.
Green finch was furious.
She bleeded loudly and struggled to pull free,
Straining so hard to leap forward that Peter shouted to Heidi for help.
He couldn't get up without letting go,
And he was afraid of hurting the goat's leg.
Heidi was already there.
She saw the danger at once.
Quickly gathered a handful of sweet-smelling leaves from nearby and held them under Green Finch's nose.
Come now,
Green Finch,
Don't be naughty,
She said in a coaxing voice.
Look,
You could have fallen down there and hurt yourself terribly.
The goat turned her head and began eating the leaves calmly from Heidi's hand.
Peter scrambled his feet and took hold of the bell strap around Green Finch's neck.
Heidi did the same on the other side,
And together they led her back to the rest of the flock,
Who had been grazing peacefully all along.
Now that the goat was safe,
Peter raised his stick to give her a good beating.
Green Finch saw it coming and shrank back,
But Heidi cried out,
No,
Peter,
Don't hit her.
Look how frightened she is.
She deserves it,
Peter muttered and raised the stick again.
Heidi stepped in front of him.
You have no right to hurt her,
She said,
Her dark eyes flashing with indignation.
Leave her alone.
Peter lowered his stick and looked at her in surprise.
Fine,
He said after a moment,
But you have to give me more of your cheese tomorrow to make up for the fright.
You can have it all,
Said Heidi without hesitation.
Tomorrow and every day.
I don't want it anyway,
And I'll give you bread as well.
A big piece like today.
But you have to promise never to beat Green Finch or Snowflake or any of the goats.
All right,
Said Peter with a shrug that meant he agreed.
He let go of Green Finch,
Who sprang away joyfully to join the others.
The day had slipped quietly by,
And now the sun was sinking toward the high peaks.
Heidi was sitting on the ground when she suddenly leaped to her feet.
Peter,
Peter,
Everything's on fire.
The rocks are burning,
And the snow mountain,
And the sky.
Look,
Look.
The high rocks are red with flame.
The snow is glowing.
Get up,
Peter.
The fir trees too.
Everything,
Everything's on fire.
It's always like that,
Said Peter calmly,
Whittling away at a stick.
But it isn't really fire.
Then what is it?
It just does that,
Said Peter.
Look,
Cried Heidi again,
Fresh with excitement.
Now it's all turned rose colored,
And the snow,
And the sharp peaks up there.
What are those mountains called?
Mountains don't have names,
Said Peter.
Oh,
How beautiful.
The snow has gone crimson,
And there are roses all over the rocks.
Oh,
Now they're turning gray.
Oh,
It's all fading,
Peter.
It's all going.
And she sat back down,
Looking as though something precious had been lost forever.
It'll come back tomorrow,
Said Peter.
Get up,
We have to go home.
He whistled to the goats,
And they all set off down the mountain.
Does it happen every day,
Asked Heidi,
Clambering down at Peter's side.
Will we see it every time we bring the goats up?
She waited eagerly for his answer.
Most days,
He said.
But tomorrow,
For certain?
Yes,
Tomorrow for certain,
Said Peter.
Heidi felt perfectly happy again.
Her head was so full of everything she had seen and felt that she was quiet the rest of the way down,
And said nothing until they reached the hut.
The grandfather was sitting outside under the fir trees,
Where he had put up the new bench.
Heidi ran to him,
With little Swan and little Bear trotting close behind her,
Knowing their own master well.
Peter called after her.
Come again tomorrow.
Good night,
For he had more than one reason to want Heidi back the next day.
Oh,
Grandfather,
Cried Heidi.
It was so beautiful.
The fire and the roses on the rocks,
And the blue and yellow flowers.
And look what I brought you.
She opened her apron and shook all her flowers out at his feet.
But the flowers were changed beyond recognition.
They lay limp and flat,
Like dried wisps of hay.
Not a single flower cup was open.
Oh,
Grandfather,
What's happened to them,
Cried Heidi in dismay.
They weren't like this this morning.
Why do they look like this now?
They like to stand in the sun,
Said her grandfather,
Not to be shut up in an apron.
Then I'll never pick them again.
But grandfather,
Why does the great bird croak like that?
Go and have your bath now,
And I'll fetch the milk.
When we're sitting together at supper,
I'll tell you all about it.
Heidi did as she was told,
And later,
Perched on her high stool with her bowl of milk and grandfather beside her,
She asked again,
Why does the great bird croak and scream down at us,
Grandfather?
He's mocking the people who live down in the villages,
Said the old man,
Because they all huddle together gossiping and encourage each other in idle and harmful ways.
He cries out,
If only you would leave all that behind and come here and live on the heights as I do,
You would be better for it.
There was something almost fierce in his voice as he spoke,
And Heidi felt as though she could hear the great bird's cry ringing out all over again.
Why did you say the mountains have no names,
She went on.
Heater said they don't.
They have names,
Said grandfather.
Describe one to me that you can remember,
And if I know it,
I'll tell you what it's called.
Heidi described the rocky mountain with the two high peaks so precisely that her grandfather was delighted.
I know exactly the one,
He said,
And told her its name.
Then Heidi told him about the mountain with the great snow field,
And how it had seemed to catch fire.
Her grandfather explained that it was the sun that did it.
When the sun says good night to the mountains,
He said,
He throws his most beautiful covers over them so they won't forget him before he comes back the next morning.
Heidi loved this with her whole heart,
And could hardly bear to wait for the next day so she could climb up again and watch the sun say good night to the mountains.
But first there was bed,
And she fell into a deep and peaceful sleep on her hay mattress,
Dreaming of nothing but shining mountains covered in red roses,
With happy little snowflake leaping in and out among them.
Sweet dreams,
My friend.
Sleep well.
