This week's loveliness fair is being hosted by Paula and our theme is windows. As I walked through the house this morning to start my day, I was mulling this post around in my mind. I love my windows. I love curtains, I love the views from windows, there is so much I could say. But as the day began, I realized that my windows have changed in their purpose and meaning since I have stepped up my efforts to be intentional about housekeeping.
Windows are quite lovely in of themselves for the view they provide to nature's gifts. The fact that we get to dress them to suit our tastes lends another lovely attribute to them (for some wonderful inspiration, check out Lady Lydia's advice at Home Living), but what I have come most to appreciate about my windows is how they've come to reflect my intention in the pursuit of a daily routine and rhythm.
I start my mornings in the kitchen, where I brew the coffee, start a load of laundry and unload the dishwasher from the evening before. The space between my kitchen sink and my island stove top is the place where I spend the "pegs" of my day, the times that mark the important points in our daily routine. It has become my special little space:
This little vase was placed there to hold the handfuls of wild flowers the boys bring me on a regular basis these spring days. As summer approaches, it will be home to roses and marigold from the garden (I hope). The candle is the one I spoke about here--I light when I'm working in the kitchen, washing dishes at the sink or doing meal prep on the counters, to remind me to sanctify the moment, to find my holiness in this everyday service. This is where I start the work of my day, it is the place I return to for important work throughout the day, and the last place I finish the work of the day most evenings. It is a lovely place to work, filled with the presence of little reminders that my work is holy, that my return to this spot throughout the day is my calling, that intent translated into action is virtuous.
This sweet little St. Pio statue holds my wedding ring for me when I am involved in the kitchen. I like to try to remember this quote from him as I work: "Do not be so given to the activity of Martha as to forget the silence of Mary. May the Virgin who so well reconciled the one with the other be your sweet model and inspiration."
I think the gentle rhythm of a day followed with intent and purpose allows me to find that balance.
Shortly after I begin my morning at the kitchen window, a little voice beckons from another room. Kolbe, my early riser, clamors for his "Mommy morning time." The coffee is ready, I fill my cup and head to his room:
Each evening when I put him to bed, we sing and untie his curtains to signal evening's rest. When I pick him up in the mornings, we sing to greet the day and as I lay him on the changing table, we tie those curtains back to greet the day's sun once again.
This spot is one I return to again and again throughout the day as well. With two babies in diapers, there are lots of changes, and with Kolbe still napping twice most days, his bed gets lots of use. The light shining through those tied curtains in another reminder to me that the day's work creates a rhythm that benefits all of us, and that the little ones in our midst need the careful attention to detail that intentional routines create.
Our day is punctuated by the routine work keeping a house requires of us, but its text is the praying, growing, and learning we do together each day. Our dining room window marks the seasons and showcases these aspects of our lives:
Right now, we are adding weekly items that reflect the season of spring and coordinate with our alphabet activities. 
After breakfast, morning prayer and chores, this window greets us as we sit for academic work in areas like math and reading. We return in the afternoons for tea and a craft to celebrate the seasons of our faith, like these spring crosses that last week reminded us that we were still rejoicing in Easter's joy:
And to work together as a family on the plans at Serendipity, including our geography postcards:
When this part of our day is done, the routine takes me back to my starting point, the kitchen window, for dinner prep and clean up, and then on to bed time, where we draw those curtains in the little boy's room and settle into evening's lulling rhythm.
Housekeeping is essentially about routine. Marking our days with joy and beauty makes becomes easier when there is a reliable rhythm to our days. We must be intentional in our pursuit of it. And if we are, we may just find there is lots of simple loveliness awaiting us each day, in familiar spots that reflect who we are and why we do what we do.
