Finding Freedom in the Parting of the WaysMain MenuThe Parting of the WaysIntroductionPaths by Julie ShaferJulie Shafer essayDiverging Paths Audio GalleryDenise Johnson Interviews Julie Shafer Pt. 1Works CitedInformation pageBiographiesInformation pageGratitudeAcknowledgementsDenise M. Johnson4ac969f411f8ab69a8061d019e5b50c846dc43d8
Julie Shafer, Untitled (Road with Power Lines), 2018
1media/julieshafer_untitledroadwithpowerlines_2018_thumb.jpg2020-05-01T04:43:24+00:00Denise M. Johnson4ac969f411f8ab69a8061d019e5b50c846dc43d83371Photoplain2020-05-01T04:43:24+00:00Denise M. Johnson4ac969f411f8ab69a8061d019e5b50c846dc43d8
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1media/julieshafer_untitledroadwithpowerlines_2018.jpgmedia/Screen Shot 2020-04-14 at 5.55.19 PM.png2020-05-06T00:20:30+00:00Paths by Julie Shafer7Julie Shafer essayplain119442020-05-12T00:37:53+00:00The snow resembled a dusting of powdered sugar across the vegetation and terrain of the Central Wyoming Plains. It was so brilliantly white, and evenly distributed it’s as if the sky was a sifter; each second a turn of the handle releasing more powder to drift through a mesh screen. I was as evenly dusted as the terrain- from above I’d be imperceptible save the footprints I’d left behind. Behind me was a sinuous trail, in front of me fresh, unadulterated white powder with scraggly sagebrush poking out here and there, and tufts of sallow prairie grass. I could see the final destination but couldn’t see how to get there. A signpost near the trailhead indicated that there is indeed a path to Devil’s Gate, though there had been no trace of one then and no trace of one now. I had forged my own way forward, and if falling in holes, and tripping over sagebrush was the goal, then I’d won ten times over.
