My favorite photograph of my father shows him

　　squatting on his heels, trowel in hand, behind a golden

　　heap of onions freshly pulled from the ground. 12

　　His glowing smile are evidence of his pride in the

　　onions—the proof of his labor and love—and in me, the

　　photographer, his son. In that photo, his love of the land

　　and his love for me are somehow intertwined, indivisible.

　　It is that same love—love of kin, love of land—that

　　pushes under my fingernails, pushes against my skin,

　　when I thrust my hand into the yielding earth and think

　　that on its far side my father might be doing the same.
2015年2月7日ACT英语真题预测：http://www.xiaoma.com/act/yy/20150108/337005.html?seo=bgz2

squatting on his heels, trowel in hand, behind a golden

　　heap of onions freshly pulled from the ground. 12

　　His glowing smile are evidence of his pride in the

　　onions—the proof of his labor and love—and in me, the

　　photographer, his son. In that photo, his love of the land

　　and his love for me are somehow intertwined, indivisible.

不错 谢谢楼主的分享。