NORTHEAST OHIO SPOTLIGHT
Joanne Lozar Glenn
What He Planted
Nonfiction by Joanne Lozar Glenn
One summer, I snapped a picture of my father watering the crops at dusk, the garden hose looping like a snake in his hands. He raked, then troweled, vegetable beds, planting lettuce seeds, tomato seedlings, corn, rhubarb, cukes. Grape vines. And marigolds. Their noxious odor saved crops from critters. He heard me coming, looked up, smiled as if he was glad to see me. Unlike me, he never hid his love. I, on the other hand, split off flakes of mine, of my life, too, as if from a too-long idle, rusty tool. I'd been left too many times to be that open.