Did you know Ontario is home to an estimated 66,000 burial sites and cemeteries?1
That’s a whole lot of history—and that’s just one of the fun facts I discovered while putting together this year’s project in celebration of Cemetery Appreciation Month.
Every May, since I learned about it, I like to do something a little different to mark the occasion. In past years, I’ve made Cemetery Bingo cards and even created a cute little cemetery terrarium. This time, I decided to combine my love of cemeteries with my background in graphic design. (Design is part of what I do when I’m not graving!)
So, I created an infographic with a few Canadian cemetery facts. I thought it would be a fun way to share what makes our cemeteries so unique—through numbers and dates, in a visual way.
If you’ve been following my blog for a while, you know I visit A LOT of cemeteries. And if there is one thing I’ve learned, it’s that they’re not all the same. There are pioneer cemeteries that barely show up on a map, grand garden cemeteries, sombre asylum cemeteries, and everything in between. They’re not just places of rest—but cultural time capsules.
And the numbers really tell a story.
Here are just a few highlights from the infographic:
Canada’s oldest known gravestone dates back to 1720 and is found in Nova Scotia.2
Over 23,000 cemeteries across Canada contain the remains of those who served in World Wars.3
One of the oldest gravestones in Northern Ontario can be found in Wawa.4
Whether you’re new to cemetery exploring or have been wandering cemeteries for years. I hope this infographic offers you some inspiration, and maybe a few new cemeteries to add to your cemetery bucket list.
Thanks for reading, and happy Cemetery Appreciation Month!
A few weeks ago, I took a trip to Little Canada in Toronto. While most people go there to see the miniature landmarks, I was there with a slightly different goal in mind: finding the cemeteries!
Little Canada is a truly unique attraction that shrinks down the Great White North into incredibly detailed miniature scenes. Using intricate models and lighting effects, this ever-growing miniature world brings Canadian landmarks, cities, and culture to life. It’s a love letter to the country, built on a foundation of storytelling.
On our visit, my fiancé and I were lucky enough to get a personal tour from Heidi, a senior leader in marketing, who shared behind-the-scenes insights that made the experience even more special.
The story behind Little Canada is charming in its own right. On our tour, we met the founder, Jean-Louis Brenninkmeijer who was inspired to start this project after helping his son with a school assignment about Canada. That seed of an idea grew into the sprawling, detailed world you can visit today.Everything in the exhibit—from the fishing boats in Little East Coast to the recognizable Parliament buildings in Little Ottawa—is designed with storytelling in mind. Even the hidden details, like the many Easter Eggs scattered throughout each scene, tell their own whimsical stories.
What’s my favourite Easter Egg? Besides Bigfoot? (Look for him in Little Quebec!) I’d have to say the time capsule that is hidden in the National Gallery in Little Ottawa. Jean-Louis shared the story behind this Easter Egg with me.
The day before Little Canada opened its doors, the entire team contributed something to a USB stick, and sealed it away in this tiny gallery space, masquerading as a sculpture. The plan is to open this tiny time capsule when the building lease is up—20 to 30 years from now! I love the idea of a time capsule, it’s a moment frozen in time, much like a cemetery is.
Speaking of cemeteries, Heidi was very kind, making sure to point them out as we travelled through all the exhibits.
The first cemetery was tucked in among the highway in the Little Golden Horseshoe. A little stone cairn sits at the entrance, with the name Memory Cemetery carved into it. A handful of gravestones sit within a fence, surrounded by trees in full autumn colours. This little cemetery is not based on any real-world cemetery but is an example of a small rural cemetery, with its own resident ghost that sits on one of the fence posts. A good example of some of the whimsy that can be found throughout Little Canada.
Memory Cemetery in Little Canada
The second cemetery we found was in Little East Coast. This rural cemetery is based on Cavendish Community Cemetery, in Prince Edward Island. It features a replica gravestone of Lucy Maud Montgomery, the Canadian author best known for her Anne of Green Gables book series. Surrounded by fall colours and marked by a replica cemetery sign, that even includes “Resting Place of L.M. Montgomery” in impossibly small type. This cemetery is also a busy one, with some people paying their respects, and others having what I first thought was a picnic—until I looked closer at my photos and realized it was a Ouija board session! Another example of the unexpected storytelling hidden in these tiny scenes.
Both of the cemeteries were small, but incredibly detailed—down to the engraved names and the uneven ground. I can’t say I ever photographed a cemetery in a 1:87 scale before!
Cavendish Community Cemetery in Little Canada
Scattered throughout all the little scenes were also tiny monuments and war memorials, similar to what you would find while wandering a small town or city. It’s interesting to note how prevalent these places of memorial and remembrance really are.
As we explored the display wall, where some of the 5-inch Little Me figures are displayed, there is also a small section devoted entirely to the Vimy Ridge Memorial. Even scaled down, it’s a striking memorial. Designed to commemorate Canadians who fought and died in World War I, the real Vimy Ridge Memorial in France is a place of reflection and national pride. I was struck by the thought that cemeteries and monuments—no matter their size—inspire memory, honour, and connection.
Vimy Ridge Memorial in Little Canada
It’s easy to see how much heart goes into every scene and detail. At the Maker’s Window, we had the chance to speak to some of the lovely women who bring these miniature scenes to life. The attention to detail, and at such a small scale, is amazing! Talking to them made me realize that this isn’t just about scale and architecture. It’s about the people behind the scenes, pouring care, creativity, and pride into every tiny building, street, and story.
Of course, I couldn’t visit Little Canada without getting Littlized!
The Littlization process allows you to have a 3D scan of yourself turned into a miniature figurine, a Little Me, to take home or be placed somewhere in the display. It’s a fun nod to personal storytelling and a reminder that all these little pieces make up something much bigger.
We spent about three hours exploring the exhibits, and I could easily see myself going back again and still not spotting every detail. There’s history, humour, sentimentality, and a strong sense of community behind it all.
Little Ottawa in Little Canada
Little Canada may be small in scale, but its message is big: Canadian stories matter. Whether that’s the story of a national battle memorial, a hidden USB time capsule, or a tiny cemetery, each piece tells us something about who we are, and what we value.
And, if you’re someone like me, drawn to hidden stories, Little Canada has no shortage of tiny wonders to explore.
Last Summer, while I was on my way to visit some cemeteries in Southern Ontario, we made a special stop along Highway 69. Not for a gravestone, but for a different kind of memorial.
The Cole Howard Memorial Sculpture is a roadside landmark that’s both beautiful and deeply moving.
We had started our day early, and the road was relatively quiet when we got close to the sculpture. Taking advantage of the slow traffic, we pulled over, and I was able to hop out and cross the highway to photograph this beautiful and artistic memorial.
Though I didn’t know Howard personally, this is a memorial I always look out for when I’m travelling down Highway 69. It’s my small way of saying ‘hello’ to Cole, a gesture of remembrance for a young life lost too soon.
Cole Howard was only 19 years old when he was killed in a car crash on January 3, 2012.1 He was a passenger in a vehicle that crashed due to icy road conditions.1 The accident also claimed the lives of Jessica Chamberland, Alyssa McKeown, and Torry McIntyre.1
It’s important to also remember the others who tragically lost their lives in the same accident. Howard, Chamberland, McKeown and McIntyre were all taken far too soon. Each of them left a lasting impact on their families, friends, and community. The grief of such a loss has reverberated through the lives of all who knew them, and their legacies are now forever intertwined.
In the wake of this tragic accident, Howards family wanted to create a lasting tribute that would not only honour Cole’s life but also reflect his love of music. The result is a life-sized sculpture, crafted from steel and placed on the side of the highway, at the site of the accident.
Sculptor and welder, Laval Bouchard created the image of Howard with remarkable accuracy.1 He is depicted sitting behind his drums, barefoot, wearing a backward hat—just as he often did in life. Howard had been the drummer for the local metal band Sanctuaries, and his sculpture even features him wearing one of their band shirts.1
The memorial sculpture was installed at the crash site the day after what would have been Howard’s 22nd birthday, in 2014.1 For his family, it must have been a deeply emotional moment—transforming a place of tragedy into one of remembrance. Unlike many who have a traditional grave marker in a cemetery, Howard was cremated, and his ashes were not buried in one place. Some were spread at Abbey Road in London, England—an iconic location for music lovers.2 The rest of his ashes remain in a drum-style urn in his family’s home.2
Without a conventional grave site to visit, this roadside memorial serves as a place where friends, family, and even strangers can stop to pay their respects and remember Cole. In a way, it acts as both his monument and gathering place for those who continue to hold him in their hearts.
When I visited, the sculpture was wearing a pair of sunglasses, and its shoulders were draped with a large stuffed elephant. There were so many grave goods left around the memorial, including stones, beer cans, and even a couple of drumsticks. It was a moving reminder of just how much Howard is still loved.
What I love about roadside memorials like this is that they’re not just a spot for remembrance—they’re a statement. They’re a way for families to make sure their loved one is never forgotten, even as time goes on. For Howard’s family, the sculpture was a way to turn their grief into something positive, something that would last. It’s clear from the visitors and mementos left at the sculpture that the community feels the same way. Even years after the accident, the memorial continues to be a place for people to honour him.2
The Cole Howard Memorial isn’t just a tribute—it invites you to pause and reflect on life, loss, and the power of music. Roadside memorials like this also serve as powerful reminders of the dangers of the road and raise awareness about the importance of road safety.
Have you ever passed by a roadside memorial that made you stop and reflect? I’d love to hear your experiences in the comments.
Last Summer, my mother and I took a trip to Wellington County, thanks to a surprise road trip from Guess Where Trips. You might remember the blog post I wrote about the whole experience last year.
One of the most memorable stops on our adventure was the Wellington County Museum and Archives, a place that doesn’t just preserve history, but really brings it to life. Nestled between the charming towns of Fergus and Elora, this museum isn’t just a collection of artifacts—it’s a storyteller, sharing the life stories of the people who once walked its halls.
But the museum wasn’t the only thing that left an impact on us. Today, I want to share a bit more about our experience—both visiting the museum, and the cemetery were some of the House of Industry and Refuge residents were laid to rest.
The Wellington County Museum and Archives is housed in a building with a fascinating and, at times heartbreaking history.
Designated as a National Historic Site, this building holds the title of the oldest remaining rural House of Industry and Refuge in Canada.1 Established in 1877, it originally provided a home for the poor, homeless, and destitute of Wellington County. Over the years, approximately 1,400 men, women, and children sought refuge within these walls.1
Today, the museum has taken on a whole new role. Instead of providing shelter, it now shares knowledge, offering programs, exhibits, and resources that dive into local history, art, and culture.2
And the grounds? Well, they have their own stories to tell.
When my mother and I visited, we started exploring the top floor and made our way down. Although there were many exhibits at the time, including one about 19th-century fashion, I was most drawn to the history of the Poor House itself and the people who had lived there.
Wellington County Poor House
Back in the 19th century, poverty was seen as a moral failing rather than an unfortunate circumstance. That’s where places like the Wellington County House of Industry and Refuge came in.3 Also known as the Poor House, it was one of several institutions across Ontario designed to provide shelter and work for those in need. Life here wasn’t easy, but the goal was to make the Poor House as self-sufficient as possible.3
The facility operated as an industrial farm, with thirty acres of land used to grow oats, turnips, wheat, and even apples from a 100-tree orchard.3 Livestock provided eggs, meat, and fresh butter, while any surplus goods were sold in town to help cover the cost of necessities like sugar, coffee, and bread.3
Life in the Poor House was structured and demanding. Residents—often referred to as “inmates”—had to work to earn their keep.3 The strict rules and expectations reflected the era’s attitudes toward poverty and self-sufficiency. It wasn’t until 1947 when the facility was renamed the Wellington County Home for the Aged, that things started to shift.3 The term “inmate” was finally dropped and replaced with “resident”—a small but important change.3
The Home remained in operation until 1971 when its last residents were moved to Wellington Terrace, a new senior home in Elora.3 Just a few years later, in 1975, the building reopened as the Wellington County Museum.3
Walking through the museum, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of its history. Panels line the walls, sharing stories of past residents, and exhibits display artifacts that once belonged to them. Although the items were simple—a worn bed, an old suitcase—they evoked so much emotion. These weren’t just objects, they were pieces of someone’s life.
Considering the hardships experienced by its former residents, it’s no surprise that some people believe the museum is haunted. Visitors and staff alike have reported seeing shadowy figures, hearing unexplained footsteps, and even witnessing elevators moving on their own.4
The most well-known spirit is said to be that of a former resident named Anna. People have claimed to hear women arguing in empty rooms, or furniture being rearranged.4 Is it just an old building settling? Or is history lingering in more ways than one?
House of Industry and Refuge Cemetery
When the museum closed for the day, my mother and I made our way to the cemetery—a quiet but powerful reminder of the lives that once filled the Poor House.
A short drive took us to a small parking lot near the cemetery entrance. From there, a scenic trail led to a repurposed train bridge that spans the highway. It was a beautiful day, and the surrounding forest was lush and green. After crossing the bridge, we descended a staircase with informational panels that peeked out from behind the foliage. The staircase led us down to a clearing, where tall trees provided shade over a few gravestones.
The cemetery is the final resting place for 271 men, women, and children who had no family to claim them.5 Originally, the graves were marked with simple wooden crosses, but over time, those markers deteriorated and disappeared. Today, small gravestones mark the sections of the cemetery, and a larger central monument lists the names of those buried here.
James Burk was the first to be buried in the cemetery on December 21, 1877.5 Often only the gravedigger, clergyman, and undertaker were present for the burials.5 The oldest person to be buried in the cemetery was 106 years old, while the youngest was under a year old.5 The last burial to take place here was for Samuel Nichols who passed away on December 14, 1946.5
Standing in that clearing, surrounded by the names of those who had lived and died here was quite moving. The stories of some of these individuals might have been lost to time, but the community has worked hard to ensure that they are remembered.
Visiting the Wellington County Museum and the House of Industry and Refuge Cemetery was like stepping back in time. It gave me a glimpse into a world where life was unimaginably hard, but also where people persevered against the odds.
The transformation of the Poor House into a museum and cultural hub is a great example of how we can honour the past while also moving forward. History isn’t always easy to confront, but it’s essential to remember—because it shapes who we are today.
Have you ever visited a historic site that really stuck with you? I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments. If you’re ever in Wellington County, I highly recommend stopping by this museum and its cemetery. It’s a place that truly brings history to life.
One of my favorite things about wandering through cemeteries is discovering unique gravestone symbols. Over the years, I have noticed that certain motifs pop up again and again. It’s so interesting to see how these symbols can change depending on where you are.
Today, I want to take a closer look at the chalice as a gravestone symbol—what it represents and how it’s been depicted in different places. The variations I have found over the years show just how much it can change depending on location. It’s interesting to note that the chalice is a very common symbol in the Abitibi-Temiscamingue region of Quebec.
The chalice is a Christian symbol, that is commonly depicted as a cup with a stem, similar to a wine glass. It is thought to symbolize Christianity’s holy sacrament and the act of communion. It can also represent mankind’s deep yearning to be filled with Christ’s divine teachings and grace.1
Sometimes the chalice is depicted with a circle above it, symbolizing the consecrated Eucharist, which represents the Catholic rite of Holy Communion. This combination of symbols is often found on the gravestones of priests.2
Have you come across a chalice symbol on your cemetery walks? Or noticed any other symbols that pop up often in your local cemeteries? I’d love to hear about it in the comments.
Thanks for reading!
References:
Understanding Cemetery Symbols: A Field Guide for Historic Graveyards by Tui Snider
After visiting both of Tom Thomson’s graves, I was inspired to visit the graves of all the members of the Group of Seven.
As a graphic designer, I have a little background in art history and I have long admired their work. Standing at Thomson’s first resting place at Canoe Lake sparked a desire to pay my respects to the others who also helped shape Canadian art.
So today on the blog, I want to share my visit to the grave of Franklin Carmichael in Orillia, Ontario.
M.O. Hammond (1876–1934), Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
Franklin Carmichael
Born in 1890 in Orillia, Franklin Carmichael showed early signs of artistic talent, which his mother quickly nurtured by enrolling him in music and art lessons.1 In his teenage years, he worked in his father’s carriage-making shop, where he honed his skills as a designer, striper, and painter.1 By 1910, Carmichael moved to Toronto to attend the Ontario College of Art, where he studied under renowned instructors.1
In April of 1920, Carmichael found his place within the emerging Group of Seven, joining artists like A.Y. Jackson, Lawren Harris, and J.E.H. MacDonald in their mission to capture Canada’s untamed wilderness.1 Despite being the youngest member of the group, Carmichael’s work, particularly his depictions of Ontario’s northern landscapes, were just as striking and bold as those of his peers.1 His travels to Lake Superior and the La Cloche Mountains were the backdrop for some of his most celebrated works, where watercolors became the defining feature of his style.1
Carmichael would go on to teach at the Ontario College of Art and later founded the Canadian Group of Painters, after the Group of Seven disbanded in 1933.1
Orillia Museum of Art & History
The Orillia Museum of Art & History sits in the heart of downtown Orillia and is housed in the historic Sir Samuel Steele Memorial Building. My mother and I parked the car on a side street and slowly walked along the sidewalk to the museum as we took in the views of the downtown core. It was a beautiful fall day when we visited, so the streets were bustling with activity.
We began our museum visit on the top floor and slowly made our way back down, through the myriad of exhibits. The museum’s collection intertwines local history with artistic expression.
When we visited, the Teachers and Their Enduring Impact—The Legacy of Jose Salas exhibit had just opened. This exhibit featured artwork by Jose Salas, an art teacher at the local college, as well as artwork from of his students.2 It was a lovely exhibit that showcased the profound influence a teacher can have on their student’s creative journeys.
While viewing this exhibit, I couldn’t help but think about Carmichael and what kind of influence he had on his students when he taught at the Ontario College of Art. Having taken quite a few art classes myself, I wondered what it may have been like to be taught by one of the famous Group of Seven.
The museum also has a permanent exhibit that features some of the more prominent figures from Orilla, like Gordon Lightfoot, Stephen Leacock, and of course—Franklin Carmichael.
Untitled (Waterfall, South River) by Franklin Carmichael. 1990.2.1 Watercolor, n.d 12.75 x 11 Donated by the Simcoe College Foundation. Orillia Museum of Art & History
After taking in everything the museum had to offer, it was time to make our way to the cemetery to pay our respects.
St. Andrews and St. James Cemetery
Franklin Carmicheal passed away in Toronto, on October 24, 1945, following a regular day of teaching classes. As he began his drive home, he suffered a heart attack in his car; he was only 55 years old.3
Carmichael is laid to rest in St. Andrews and St. James Cemetery in his hometown of Orilla. His final resting place is marked with an elegant grey granite stone, that is engraved with ivy and crosses. He is laid next to his beloved wife, Ada Lillian Went Carmichael, who passed away in 1964.
Buried alongside Carmichael in the family plot, are his daughter Mary Franklin Carmichael Mastin, and her husband. Mary dedicated much of her life to preserving her famous father’s legacy.4 She was also a writer and journalist, writing about nature and conservation.4 She passed away in 2012, at the age of 91 at St. Gabriel’s Villa, in Chelmsford, Ontario.4
In contrast to the busy streets, the cemetery was very quiet. My mother and I were the only visitors. As I stood at Carmichael’s graveside, I reflected on how his contributions to the art world have influenced and inspired countless generations of Canadian artists. I was a little surprised, though, to find that no flowers or grave goods had been left at his grave, something I had expected for an artist of his caliber. It made me think about how a person’s life story can sometimes be quietly forgotten, and the importance of remembrance.
I really enjoyed my visit to Orillia. Exploring Franklin Carmichael’s legacy was a unique opportunity to reflect on the power of art and how it connects us to the land and each other. From the Orillia Museum of Art & History to his gravesite, it was a lovely trip that gave me a deeper appreciation for Carmichael’s work and the lasting impact he had on Canadian art.
“They might have split up or they might have capsized They may have broke deep and took water And all that remains is the faces and the names Of the wives and the sons and the daughters”1
These lyrics from Gordon Lightfoot’s iconic song The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald have long been etched in the minds of listeners, who like me, have found themselves enthralled by Lightfoot’s masterful storytelling.
This song, along with many of his other hits, like If You Could Read My Mind and Sundown, have created the soundtrack for countless Canadians, evoking the beauty, melancholy, and vastness of our Canadian landscape.
Today on the blog, I want to share my experience from this past September. I had the opportunity to visit the Gordon Lightfoot Sculpture Park and his final resting place in his hometown of Orillia, Ontario.
Gordon Meredith Lightfoot was born on November 17, 19382 in the small town of Orillia, the gateway to the Muskokas.3 From an early age, Lightfoot showed a natural talent for music, learning the piano, teaching himself to play drums, and later picking up the guitar.2 In 1957, Lightfoot left Canada, going to Los Angeles to study jazz orchestration at Westlake College of Music.2 After returning to Canada in the late 1950s, he began to sing folk songs and play guitar around Toronto.2
It didn’t take long for Lightfoot to make his mark on the Canadian music scene. His folk-infused ballads quickly captured the essence of the Canadian spirit. Throughout his career, Lightfoot released over 20 albums and was known for his blend of folk, country, and soft rock—a style uniquely his.2
Lightfoot received numerous prestigious awards throughout his music career, including multiple Juno awards, and was inducted into the Canadian Music Hall of Fame in 1986.2 He also earned honours like the Order of Canada, Order of Ontario, and a Governor General’s Performing Arts Awards.2 Lightfoot was recognized in the Canadian Songwriters Hall of Fame and received a Lifetime Achievement award from SOCAN and the Toronto Music Awards.2
One of my favorite Lightfoot songs is based on a real-life event, the tragic sinking of the S.S. Edmund Fitzgerald. The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald, in my opinion, is one of his most famous and most haunting ballads.
The song is a tribute to all the lives lost in the shipwreck, on November 10, 1975. It’s estimated that between 7:20 and 7:30 p.m. on that fateful day, the ship vanished and sank with 29 men onboard.4
S.S. Edmund Fitzgerald. Photo: United States Army Corps of Engineers, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
Gordon Lightfoot Sculpture Park
I knew my visit to Orillia would not be complete without a visit to the Gordon Lightfoot Sculpture Park and walking trail. We visited in late September, and the trees were just beginning to change. A perfect day for a walk.
The sculpture park is a beautiful and artistic tribute to Lightfoot’s music and legacy, celebrating both his achievements and his connection to the area. The park’s centerpiece is a striking, larger-than-life bronze sculpture of Lightfoot, sitting cross-legged with his guitar in hand. It captures him in his element, mid-song as his music comes alive around him, depicted on maple leaves that encircle him. I took some time to reflect while standing before the statue. The park is not just a collection of art pieces, but a reflection of Lightfoot’s connection to the land, his music, and the people who grew up listening to his songs.
My mother and I were not the only visitors to the park that day. There were throngs of people walking the trails, many with large cameras in hand. I noticed they all took some time to admire the beautiful sculpture work and reflect on Lightfoot’s life and work as well.
I wondered if Lightfoot himself had known about this sculpture park. I was pleasantly surprised to see a large plaque that showed Lightfoot smiling as he stood beside his younger, bronze self. He was in attendance for the unveiling in 2015, and said humbly “I’m honoured, much more so than any of the honours I’ve received up to this point in time.”5
After walking the entirety of the walking trail loop, my mother and I made our way back to the car. We decided since the area was so nice that we would have our picnic lunch in the sculpture park, before heading to our next destination—the cemetery.
It was a short drive from the park to St. Andrews and St. James Cemetery. The cemetery was quiet and serene, offering beautiful views of the surrounding forest, although we were not the only living souls visiting the cemetery that day. There was an older couple who were also meandering through the cemetery paths.
Gordon Lightfoot passed away of natural causes, in a hospital in Toronto, at the age of 84.6 He was laid to rest in St. Andrews and St. James Cemetery in May of 2023, beside his mother and father. His mother, Jessie Vick Trill Lightfoot passed away in 1998 at the age of 88.7 His father, Gordon Meredith Lightfoot Sr. passed away in 1974 at the age of 63.8
The gravestone is simple, yet elegant—a testament to the quiet humility Lightfoot always embodied, despite his fame. The inscription simply reads “Together Forever”.
Visiting Gordon Lightfoot’s grave and walking the trails at the Sculpture Park in Orillia was a beautiful and memorable experience. I couldn’t help but think about how his music had been woven into the fabric of Canada’s history. More than just melodies, they’re stories that often capture the essence of the Canadian experience.
There is something special about visiting the final resting place of someone whose music has shaped the soundtrack of a country.
For this month’s cemetery recipe, I wanted to try something a little less sugary after indulging in all the sweets this holiday season. So, when I came across this tea biscuit recipe, I thought it might be the perfect fit.
Most of the gravestone recipes I have come across in my research have been desserts, so I was pleasantly surprised when I found this biscuit recipe.
This recipe can be found on the gravestone of Debbie Ann Wilson McNutt, who is laid to rest in Pine Grove Cemetery in Stewiacke East, Nova Scotia. This my first Canadian gravestone recipe.
Debbie passed away on May 19, 2019, just 17 days after her birthday, following a long battle with cancer. She was 65. A beloved teacher and active member of her church, Debbie is remembered for her active lifestyle and for hosting family and friends in the summer.1 She is also fondly remembered for her tea biscuit recipe. According to family and friends, she made these biscuits about once a week.2
It was Debbie’s husband’s idea to engrave the recipe on her gravestone, hoping it would make people smile.2 This family recipe comes from Debbie’s mother, Jessie Wilson, who is still living. According to the family, the biscuits are best enjoyed topped with homemade jam.2
Tea Biscuit recipe on the gravestone of Debbie Ann McNutt. Photo by Rosie Grant.
Here is the recipe as written on the gravestone:
Tea Biscuits
4 Cups Flour
4 Tsp. Baking Powder
1 Half Tsp. Baking Soda
1 Tsp. Salt
1 Quarter Cup Sugar
Mix in 4 heaping tbsp. lard. Stir in 2 cups of milk.
This recipe was also printed on a memorial card for Debbie, which includes the extra baking instructions2:
Roll out, bake at 400oF degrees until golden brown.
In the Kitchen
I have never made biscuits that didn’t come out of a can before, so I enjoyed putting this recipe together. It was very straightforward to follow and pretty quick and easy.
After setting my oven to preheat at 400oF and gathering all my ingredients, I followed the recipe’s instructions and mixed all the dry ingredients together. After adding the last two wet ingredients, I used a hand mixer to combine everything together.
This is where things got a bit messy, but I trusted the process. Using a hand mixer may not have been the wisest choice, but it got the job done. After the dough was ready, I put down a thin cutting board on my counter to create my rolling space. I floured the surface and my hands and rolled out the dough. The dough is very sticky, so I continuously had to flour the surface and my hands.
To cut out my biscuits, I used a drinking glass because I didn’t have a circular cookie cutter. I also had to repeatedly flour the rim of the glass so the dough wouldn’t stick.
This recipe made a fairly big batch—more than I thought it would. I prepared two baking sheets with parchment paper and placed the uncooked biscuits on the sheets as I cut them out.
Unfortunately, the recipe doesn’t say how long to bake the biscuits for, only stating to bake until golden brown. I didn’t want to guess, so I did Google how long they should be baked for, and I found that 8 to 16 minutes should do—or until golden brown.
I put them in the oven and set a timer for 8 minutes. They still needed a bit more time after that, so I put them in for another 2 minutes. That seemed to do the trick.
I can see why Debbie would make this at least once a week. They are quick and easy to make, and taste lovely!
Trying out these cemetery recipes always adds an extra layer of meaning to the experience, thanks to the special stories behind them. There’s something truly heartwarming about preparing and sharing a dish that has been passed down through generations—especially one that brings a person’s legacy to life.
Are you planning to try this recipe? Let me know how it turns out! Whether you enjoy your biscuits with jam or as part of a cozy meal, I’m sure they’ll taste even better knowing the meaningful history they carry with them.
I have spoken before about how there are very few books written about Canadian cemeteries. That’s why I jump at the chance to pick up new books on the subject. This month’s cemetery book review is a little different. This is a book that I have had sitting on my bookshelf, well, for years. I finally got around to reading it this past summer and I hate that I waited so long!
Old Canadian Cemeteries: Places of Memory by Jane Irwin and John Visser is a beautiful exploration of Canada’s vast cemeteries and graveyards.
“Canada abounds in historical burial places. Once you begin noticing their presence, old cemeteries seem to be everywhere. But these important links to the past are in danger of disappearing forever. The expansion of cities and roadways reclaim valuable land, and inscriptions are worn away by weather and time. Older cemeteries may be important records of immigration, settlement, armed forces, epidemics, class, and religious schisms, and upward mobility of ethnic groups. In Old Canadian Cemeteries, Jane Irwin invites the reader on a visual tour of historic cemeteries across Canada, examining such diverse topics Old Canadian Cemeteries is a must for anyone interested in Canadian history.”
Old Canadian Cemeteries: Places of Memory by Jane Irwin, photographs by John De Visser
Old Canadian Cemeteries is a beautifully put-together book that takes you on a journey through Canada’s historic graveyards. The hardcover edition is rich with vibrant, full-color images that really bring the cemeteries and their stories to life. I especially enjoyed reading about the places I’ve visited myself—it was exciting to recognize familiar spots and learn more about their history.
This book also explores the meanings behind gravestone symbols found in Canadian cemeteries, as well as how burial practices have evolved over time. It’s so fascinating to think about how cemeteries are so much more than just places where people are laid to rest—they are records of history.
I really wish I had read this book years ago, as it has added so much depth to my understanding of Canadian cemetery history. If you’re at all curious about Canada’s past or the stories cemeteries hold, this book is definitely worth picking up.
Overall, Old Canadian Cemeteries is a must for anyone interested in the history and beauty of Canadian cemeteries. Whether you’re a seasoned taphophile or just curious, this book is sure to inspire a deeper appreciaiton for these important places.
Thanks for reading!
I am always on the hunt for cemetery-related book recommendations. If you are an author and have a cemetery-related book you would like me to review, please reach out at hello@chantallarochelle.ca. I would love to hear from you.
I am someone who has always found beauty in unexpected places. I am also a very curious person and love to uncover hidden stories. That’s why I love sharing my experiences and discoveries with you!
As we step into a new year, I thought it would be a perfect time to reflect on something I am very passionate about—cemeteries.
Whether you’re new to the blog or a long-time reader, please indulge me as I share more about why I find these spaces so fascinating.
For many, cemeteries might seem somber or even eerie places, but to me, they are so much more. They are open-air art galleries and museums. Each gravestone, mausoleum, and statue tells a story. The craftsmanship is often breathtaking, but there is beauty in everything—from the intricately carved angels to the weathered inscriptions that are just barely legible.
Some of my most memorable moments have been spent marveling at unique gravestones and wondering about the lives they represent. I have often come across a heartbreaking epitaph that has made me stop suddenly, creating an instant connection to someone from another time.
Cemeteries are like windows into history, serving as archives etched in stone. They showcase how cultures, traditions, and art have evolved through the years. Walking through an older cemetery really does feel like stepping back in time. You might find names that were once very common, family plots that tell stories of love and loss, or monuments commemorating an important historical event.
Cemeteries aren’t just places for remembering the past—they can also be vibrant spaces for the living.
Many people visit cemeteries for activities like walking, jogging, or bird-watching. The diversity of wildlife, trees, and flowers can also offer a quiet retreat for nature lovers. As an animal lover myself, I treasure the unexpected encounters with wildlife that cemeteries can provide, like watching a red cardinal perched on a gravestone, or hearing the distant gobble of a wild turkey while wandering among the tombstones.
Above all, cemeteries are filled with stories. Stories of those who are laid to rest, but also the stories we create when we visit them. Whether it’s a quiet moment of reflection, an unexpected historical discovery, or unraveling a cemetery mystery, these spaces remind us of the beauty and complexity of life.
So, if you’ve never thought of cemeteries in this way, or you already have an appreciation for them, I hope this post inspires you to see them in a new light. If you are already a seasoned taphophile, I would love to hear about your favorite cemetery experiences in the comments.
Let’s celebrate these unique spaces together as we step into the new year!
Cemetery Photography by Chantal Larochelle 