Put Myself in Joy’s Way

A Quiet winter, a bold bird, and a return to wonder
by Amy Giddon

The chill this year kept me indoors longer than usual. In past springs, I couldn’t wait to get back outside, eager to resume my walks and check on nature’s progress.

But even through frosted windows, I could see that spring wasn’t waiting for me. New life was already bursting forth, indifferent to the lingering cold. Eventually, I was drawn out—carried by a feeling, however irrational, that my noticing mattered. That the growing things needed to be seen, to be cheered on. That they might flourish more fully under my gaze.

I walked to my local park and did my usual loop. The cherry blossoms looked fuller. The robins seemed plumper. Maybe it was just that I hadn’t seen them in a while—but they felt more abundant, more alive.

It wasn’t that I’d been missing it. I love the slow quiet of winter—the acceptableness of staying home, the peace of solitude. I love going inward and finding a deep kind of contentment.

But then, a sudden flurry of sound pulled me from reflection—insistent cheeping, frantic
flapping. A killdeer was marching toward me with startling boldness. Following her line of sight, I spotted her nest: four perfectly speckled eggs, nestled in a shallow dip in the earth.

I backed away so as not to cause more alarm, but I couldn’t help admiring this tiny, determined protector, puffing herself up to appear fearsome.

Suddenly I felt protective, too. This was a public park—full of bounding toddlers and off-leash dogs. The nest, so exposed, felt impossibly fragile.

I began gently pointing it out to other walkers, showing them the eggs, the nest, and the brave, cartoonish bird. What began as caution quickly turned into something more: shared wonder at the improbability of the nest’s location, shared laughter at the killdeer’s drama, shared joy in witnessing new life on a spring day.

I realized: while I treasure the quiet joy of solitude, there’s a different kind of joy I can only find in connection. Seeing that bird alone would have been a gift. But seeing it together with others made the moment feel like magic. Joy, multiplied.

And so—I find I’m ready.
Ready to be back in the flow of life.
To share a smile. To marvel together.
To put myself in joy’s way.

Amy Giddon
Co-Founder and CEO, Daily Haloha