Uh oh! You're using an unsupported browser.

It appears you're using Microsoft Internet Explorer or an early version of Edge. To fully enjoy this website — and pretty much every modern website in existence — we suggest you upgrade to Chrome or Firefox. You'll be happier.

More Info

Juneberry Community Out & About

What are Juneberry members up to outside of chorus? Check below to find out; email juneberry(@)uvmusic(dot)org to add your idea or event.

Patricia’s going… want to carpool?

Chris Rollins Juneberry Artwork

Another great chance to sing!


Monday Alto Susan Walp is a visual artist who will be the honored guest at a workshop in Italy in the fall. An in-depth, luminous interview with her is posted here: https://jssincivita.com/guest-artists/

Not only can you learn more about Susan and the openness and dedication that she brings to her art, but it is a luxurious visual treat as many of her paintings appear in the article.


Monday alto and bass, Susan Morse and Phillip Mulligan, are featured in the Chelsea Library, and there’s an opening we can attend on Jan 31st to support them, enjoy their work, and get some munchies!


Another fabulous local singing opportunity — people travel from all over to come to this; we can commute!

Winter Weekend at Hulbert Center – Friday-Sunday, February 21 – 23, 2020



Art created by Patty Piotrowski… posted in honor of all the chorus members who dealt with snow on Weds (either by driving through it or heading home!) — the snow squalls were memorable!!!

An article about sculpture in the Upper Valley — featuring Monday Tenor Herb Ferris, and his fabulous sculpture at the VINS canopy walk…


A poem from Monday Soprano, Laura Foley, who says it was “very loosely inspired by “Thirteen Ways…” — it won 1st place in a poetry contest judged by Marge Piercy…

Nine Ways of Looking at Light

We moved the bed
so the head faces north,
a wisdom we read,
from India.
We dislodged a ghost,
her husband,
who on these sheets
three years ago expired.
We altered the angle
of our repose
and sleep all night
at peace, entwined.
We wake to morning hills,
trees, a great expanse,
a gentle, dappled light,
new to us.

The patient avoids the hospital window’s view,
turning from snow’s glare and stripped
winter trees, focusing on photos of dogs,
children, his hunting awards taped to the wall,
all invoking home, where he’d prefer to be,
this large man, with his bright white beard,
who doesn’t read much, doesn’t pray—
except now, with me, both of us shy,
until his eyes tear—
and his body shines from inside.

No dappling leaves,
but enough snow
on near branches now
to illuminate our window,
winter light grown greater
with snow’s reflection.

We begin it with experiment,
hurling boiling water
to the frozen air,
watching it glitter
like glass confetti
crackling in the new year—
an answered wish
in every shining shard.

Cold wind whips snow
so it swirls around our tallest pine,
a halo of light circling
a frigid angel or ghost
from my or someone else’s past
seeking company,
or just floating in the crisp winter air
for the wonder of it.

Not brown, not rust, but inexplicably white as bones,
these remnants dry as dust recall life, crackling,
as wind shivers them in barren early spring—
not one bud yet gracing it,
white leaves clung through snow and ice,
to shine and tremble in this Sunday light.

The dog shivers,
wet from a late spring swim,
whimpers as the wind
pulls light from the pond,
and we sit in shadows,
by the water she knows,
just last summer, shone gold.

This sip of coffee
over so quickly,
this guiding lighthouse
in the mist-less harbor,
moments before
the season changes,
this slip of wind along the bay,
a sweater saving me from chill,
this precious slant of summer sun,
clouds arriving to veil the light,
a gentle voice of waves on stone,
It’s this, it’s this, it’s this.

I walk this foggy dawn to see the seals
where they sleep beneath the scrim
rain makes of rising light,
to hear the music of their steady breath—
a holy time before the changing of the tide.

From Monday Alto and Steering Committee member, Cynthia Crawford… (I have used this calendar for the last two years, and the photos are stunning…)  Cindy says:
I am selling calendars again- here is the cover:
People can contact me at creaturekinships@gmail.com, or go here to purchase:
I also made a (rather expensive) book of bird and fox photos. It is available here:

Cynthia Crawford

Creature Kinships and Natural Affinities
Animal and Nature Paintings, Portraits and Prints


Phillip Mulligan, Monday Bass, is involved with this monthly reading in Chelsea — come to hear some of his poetry and enjoy other writers in the area!


Wednesday Soprano Lucinda Walker is one of Book Jam’s featured book recommenders this month!



Check out this poem by Monday Soprano Laura Foley — Laura is the author of seven poetry collections, including Why I Never Finished My Dissertation, which received a starred Kirkus review. This poem was featured in the Woven Tale Press magazine on Nov 19, and I came across it and asked Laura for permission to share it with you… thank you, Laura, for your generosity!

A Perfect Arc

By Laura Foley
From WTP Vol. VII #9

I remember the first time he dove.
He was five and we were at a swimming pool
and I said: you tip your head down as you are going in,
while your feet go up.
And then his lithe little body did it exactly right,

a perfect dive, sliding downward, arcing without a wave,
and I just stood
amazed and without words
as his blond head came up again
and today

I watched him for the longest time as he walked
firm and upright along the street,
with backpack, guitar, all he needs,
blossoming outward in a perfect arc,
a graceful turning
away from me.


Sue Hunt, Weds Alto, is the pianist on this album: Here’s To Every Country Dancer, recorded by the Canterbury Country Dance Orchestra, and released this year!
Front side of the album
Juneberry opportunities page Sue Hunt album backside