GEORGE H. GURLEY

Every spring three turkey vultures return to our farm and roost on top of the barn. The event isn’t exactly like the annual return of...

My wife’s new weed bucket reminds me of Edward Lear’s immortal nonsense poem, “The Owl and the Pussycat.” These two intrepid travelers...

The other day, as I stretched out to take a nap, the wheels of memory started to turn of their own accord. I dozed and watched like a...

I had my first epiphany about writing in college. When I turned in the first draft of my senior thesis, my advisor sent it back with a...