With Remembrance Day coming up on November 11, I have been thinking a lot about the quiet way we honour those who have served.
One of my favourite ways to reflect is by visiting military graves. There is something powerful about finding these simple, dignified markers in cemeteries across the country.
So, I thought this would be a meaningful time to share a collection of Canadian military gravestones that I have photographed over the years. Each one tells a story, and together they remind us that service and sacrifice are never forgotten.
Canadian Armed Forces members who pass away during service are honoured with a standard military tombstone. These gravestones are arranged through the Department of National Defence and placed by the Commonwealth War Graves Commission when the marker is in one of their cemeteries, or by Public Works and Government Services Canada when it is in a civilian cemetery.1 The goal is to maintain a consistent style and honour each member with the same level of care.1
Veterans who are buried in civilian cemeteries can also receive grave marker support. Veterans Affairs Canada runs a Grave Marker Maintenance Program that repairs, cleans, and restores veteran markers across the country.2
In 2023 alone, more than 110,000 repairs were carried out in communities big and small.3 It is pretty incredible to think about how much work goes into preserving these stones and their stories.
There are clear rules that guide what goes on a military gravestone. The design is simple and respectful. Each one includes the person’s name, rank, service number, unit or branch, and date of death. If the family wishes, an approved religious emblem or a personal inscription can be added. The stones are all made in the same style and materials, so they stay uniform and recognizable.1
Military graves remind us that history is not just something in books. It’s carved in stone and tended with care. Next time you are exploring a cemetery and you see one of these markers, take a moment to pause.
In 2010, a friend and I visited a place that felt frozen in time—an abandoned prison cemetery hidden deep in the Northern Ontario wilderness. Thirteen years later, we went back.
What we found was both familiar and completely changed.
The Burwash Industrial Prison Farm isn’t just an old correctional centre—it’s a strange and haunting mix of history, decay, and memory. The prison is long closed, the buildings are crumbling, and the cemetery tucked away in the forest has become almost forgotten.
But pieces of the past still linger there, if you know where to look.
The Burwash Industrial Farm opened in 1914, about 30 minutes south of Sudbury, Ontario. It was designed to be a self-sufficient correctional facility—almost like a village tucked away in the forest. At its peak, the property stretched across 35,000 acres and included a farm, a lumber operation and mill, a 20-bed hospital, and even a tailor shop.1
Burwash Industrial Farm housed between 180 and 820 minimum- and medium-security inmates, who typically served sentences of three months to two years, less a day.1 They spent their days working on the prison farm or doing maintenance around the property. The idea was that routine and hard work could help with rehabilitation. Over the years, the prison grew to include three permanent camps, and several temporary ones. It also became home to a small town of staff and their families, with a population between 600 and 1,000 people.1
The prison was remote by design—difficult to escape from, and just as difficult to reach unless you knew where you were going.
Over time, the facility became known as Camp Bison. The name comes from the herd of wood bison that once lived on the property.2 These animals roamed the land while the prison was active, and the nickname stuck even long after both the prison and bison were gone.
At the time Burwash was slated for closure in 1974, it was the largest industrial farm and the second-largest reformatory in Ontario’s correctional system.1 But the facility was considered too expensive to operate. That July, it was announced that Burwash would be shut down to save money.3 The staff were told they had to leave, and the inmates were relocated to other institutions. After that, the province began looking at alternative uses for the remaining buildings and the massive piece of land.3
What’s left today is a patchwork of wilderness, ruins, and stories.
Abandoned
After the prison shut down in 1975, most of the buildings were left to the elements. Over time, nature began to reclaim the site. The once-bustling correctional community turned into a ghost town.
Some structures were demolished, but a few—including the main cell block—were left standing, crumbling slowly in the woods. The site became a magnet for urban explorers, ghost hunters, photographers, and curious hikers.4
When we visited in 2010, it was quiet—eerily so. There were no signs, no official routes, and no other people around. Just long trails, wilderness, and the remains of buildings just barely holding on.
It was very surreal how, after driving through the wilderness on an ATV, the main cell block emerged out from the forest. The cracked windows, peeling paint, and eerie silence gave the place a haunted feel, even in broad daylight.
There was graffiti everywhere. Some of it was creepy, but a lot was just tagging and random vandalism. It was clear the site gets a lot of visitors—who weren’t always careful. Broken glass and porcelain, rusted metal, and signs of fires made it obvious that time, weather, and people had all left their marks.
Despite the damage, I found the experience strangely moving. It felt like walking through a lost chapter of history. There was a heaviness to the place, but also a sense that stories were still lingering in the walls.
It’s no surprise that Burwash has picked up a haunted reputation over the years. Visitors have reported strange noises, shadowy figures, and an overwhelming feeling of being watched. A prison guard supposedly haunts the prison, after having hanged himself when he learned that the place was closing. People say you can hear his nightstick tapping the metal bars, especially in the basement.5
Tucked away in the trees, at the edge of Cemetery Lake, is the Burwash Industrial Prison Farm Graveyard. This was the first prison graveyard I had ever visited, and I wasn’t sure what to expect. Its the final resting place of inmates who died while serving their prison sentences.
Most of the people buried here were prisoners who had no family to claim their remains. Between 12 to 20 inmates are believed to be buried in the cemetery, their graves marked only by simple wooden crosses.6 When the prison closed in 1975, no attempt was made to move them—the cemetery was simply abandoned.4
Records show that during the Spanish Flu epidemic in 1918, more than 30 people died at Burwash; including inmates, a nurse sent in from Toronto, and the wife of one prisoner who had come to visit.7 We don’t know for sure if any of these victims were buried in the cemetery, but it’s possible.
When we first visited in 2010, the cemetery was surprisingly accessible, although still hidden. The road was maintained, and I remember we were able to drive right up to it. The grass had been maintained, and though the markers were few, the space felt quietly cared for.
No polished stones or statues. Just plain wooden crosses. A few had small metal plaques. There was no formal cemetery sign, but a small framed sign hung on a tree near the entrance, quietly marking the space.
Thirteen years later, I came back. This time, the road was gone, and the cemetery was nearly unrecognizable.
It’s strange how a place can change so much.
In 2010, I remembered smooth roads and a tidy clearing. But in 2024, the gravel road was now a rugged, overgrown path—winding downhill, with deep ruts carved into the ground.
We parked in a grassy clearing nearby and walked into the forest. The bugs found us instantly, swarming like we were fresh meat. We followed what looked like a path through thick brush and knee-high grass.
Eventually, we reached a small clearing at the edge of the lake, the end of the road. I knew we had arrived—but it didn’t feel like the same place.
The cemetery was completely overgrown. Tall grass had swallowed the crosses whole. Most of the wooden markers were now broken or fallen. Any names or numbers that may have once been visible were long faded. Even the small frame marking the cemetery had been bleached by years of sun and rain, and was now blank.
It felt more like a ghost of a cemetery than a resting place. And yet, standing there, surrounded by wild grass and silence, I was reminded again why places like this matter.
Today, Burwash is a mix of forest, forgotten history, and scattered ruins.
If you’re planning to visit the prison, do your research and be prepared for an adventure. The site is on private land, and trespassers can be prosecuted. That said, Avalon Eco Resort offers a legal way to access the property, via a waiver and a small fee.3
There’s a small parking area near the train tracks, close to the start of a 4.5 km hike to the site. The road is no longer open to vehicles—only foot traffic, bikes, and ATVs. Parts of the trail are flooded, and while ATVs can get through, hikers and cyclists may have to get creative to find “alternative” paths.3
Visiting the cemetery is a different story. It’s not on private land, so there’s no need for special permission. But it’s still easy to miss in the forest, and it’s a bit of a hike.
Today, only fragments of Burwash remain. Most of the buildings are gone, but the land still whispers its stories. The cemetery is especially easy to miss if you don’t know it’s there. But for those who make the trip—who follow the overgrown path and brave the bugs to stand among the fallen crosses—it’s a place that stays with you.
Even in decay, Burwash reminds us how quickly places—and people—can disappear. But it also reminds us that memory lingers—in the rust, the rubble, and the wild grass growing where names once stood.
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.
For this month’s cemetery book review, I wanted to share something a little different. A Mortal’s Guide to Cemeteries: A Morbid Activity Book for the Blossoming Taphophile by Amanda R. Woomer is not your typical history book—it’s an interactive, hands-on guide designed to turn every cemetery visit into an adventure.
Published by Spook-Eats Publishing, this unique book blends history, symbolism, and engaging activities, making it a great read for anyone looking to deepen their cemetery appreciation in a fun and personal way. Whether you’re a seasoned taphophile or just beginning to explore the world of gravestones, this book provides plenty of ways to interact with the past.
“Part history book, part symbolism guide, and part activity book, A Mortal’s Guide to Cemeteries encourages readers to break the binding, dog-ear their favorite pages, and take notes as they start wandering through their local cemeteries in an attempt to better acquaint themselves with the concept of death.
Armed with this book, readers will be able to understand the seemingly secret language of gravestones while also respectfully interacting with the graves they find with such activities as Spot a Grave, Sketch a Grave, and the Cemetery Bucket List.”
This softcover book is divided into three sections; history, symbolism, and the largest section—activities. Woomer does a great job of providing a concise yet fascinating introduction to burial practices before diving into the meanings behind common gravestone symbols. But where this book really shines, is in it’s interactive elements—things like Sketch a Grave and the Cemetery Bucket List make exploring cemeteries like a treasure hunt for history lovers.
One of my favorite aspects is how the book encourages you to take notes, sketch what you see, and truly engage with your surroundings. The black-and-white photographs sprinkled throughout are especially helpful for identifying gravestone symbols, making it a useful companion for cemetery visits.
If I had one small critique, it would be the layout. I found myself flipping back and forth between the symbolism section and the activity pages quite a bit. It might have been a little more user-friendly if the symbol descriptions were integrated directly into the activities to save time.
That being said, the Cemetery Bucket List is such a fun addition! I would’ve loved a few blank spaces to add personal cemetery bucket list items, but it’s still a great way to track your explorations.
Overall, if you have even the slightest curiosity about cemeteries, symbolism, or just looking for something interactive, A Mortal’s Guide is a great starting point. It’s a creative, hands-on way to make your cemetery visits more meaningful—and a great addition to any taphophiles collection.
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!
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.
But recently, I became curious about what kind of cemetery podcasts might exist. As someone who has always been fascinated by the history, culture, and stories buried within cemeteries, I figured it was time to explore what podcasts had to offer.
From eerie tales of haunted burial sites to deep dives into sustainable burial practices, there’s a whole world of interesting cemetery content out there.
Here are 13 cemetery podcasts you should check out this year.
This short podcast series explores the many ways people have commemorated their dead—whether through gravestones, memorials, or historical markers. Unfortunately, there haven’t been any new episodes since 2019.
Hosted by the Necro Tourist this podcast covers famous graves, infamous hauntings, and all the graveyard gossip. Although there have not been any new episodes since 2023, the early episodes are filled with interesting cemetery stories.
Hosts Lori, Hannah, and Sheena casually chat and share cemetery stories that are sometimes incredible, sometimes eerie, and always interesting. Fair warning though, it can take a while for them to get into the good stuff.
Hosted by Caitlin Howe and Frances Ferland, Grave Escapes brings the voices of the departed back to life. Each episode uncovers a new life story, offering a deep dive into the lives of those now at rest.
Grave Matters dives into the complex connections between death, cemeteries, and culture. Episodes cover sustainable burial practices, the rise of natural burial grounds, and shifts in how we think about death care with thought-provoking discussions.
For those who enjoy a good historical ghost story, The Grim offers well-researched spine-chilling tales of haunted cemeteries and eerie graveyard legends from around the world.
Hosts Jennie and Dianne explore old cemeteries, their preservation, and the lives of those buried there. Their deep dives into these sometimes forgotten histories are both fascinating and informative.
This podcast explores cemeteries and burials worldwide, uncovering the inspiring stories and eerie legends that have grown from these final resting places.
Hosted by Liz Clappin, Tomb With A View offers an insightful exploration of American cemeteries, focusing on their history, preservation, and cultural significance.
This podcast is primarily focused on the funeral industry, Undertaking regularly explores topics involving cemeteries and burial practices. Filled with insightful interviews with industry professionals, each episode offers a unique and cultural look at death.
While these next three podcasts aren’t solely focused on cemeteries, each features episodes that delve into cemetery-related topics or are closely related to cemeteries and graveyards.
Created by The Order of the Good Death, this podcast explores the history of death, burial, and mourning practices across different cultures and eras. While not specifically focused on cemeteries, it often touches on fascinating stories and histories that are closely connected to them.
The official podcast of The Haunted Walk, Haunted Talks explores the paranormal, dark history, and ghostly tales. Some episodes venture into haunted cemeteries and the eerie legends that surround them.
Author J.W. Ocker is all about visiting strange and unusual places. Cemeteries and burial grounds sometimes make their way into episodes, as Ocker visits and explores the stories behind odd and interesting sites.
Whether it’s the history, the stories, or the spooky tales—there’s sure to be a podcast on this list to satisfy your curiosity.
Is there a podcast I should add to the list? Let me know in the comments.
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 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 