Here we are in June with Father’s Day upon us.

For me, this holiday, like Mother’s Day, has become bittersweet after the loss of my parents. In May, I wrote about some memories of my mother, including one of her sitting on her porch swing a cooing at mourning doves that had landed nearby.

A couple of weeks later, after I had started putting my houseplants outside for the season, I stepped onto the porch and noticed something strange in the spider plant I had hung behind her porch swing. A dove had landed there, but it quickly flew away when I opened the door.

Soon, though, it was back. And it took longer and longer for it to fly away when I approached. I realized it had built a nest in my potted plant.

Before long, what turned out to be a nesting pair of doves got used to Mike and me coming and going. And one day when the nest wasn’t occupied, I managed to snap a picture that revealed two small, white eggs inside. It quickly became clear that the parents to be were determined to keep those eggs warm. They even allowed me to water that plant in the reservoir at the bottom of the pot without flying off.

Then, on Thursday while I was watering the plant, the parent on duty took off. I reached up high and snapped another photo. This time, there were two tiny birds in that nest, covered in dark brown feathers. The eggs had hatched!

The watchful parent soon returned, and we allow the couple to continue to rear their chicks on our porch, watching with interest as they grow.

So, this Father’s Day — in addition to cooking dinner for my father-in-law Dexter and family — I am celebrating fatherhood by watching this little family of birds grow.

I don’t think those doves could have selected a better location than one that conjures up such fond memories for me.