Would You Picnic in a Cemetery?

Before the Victorian period (1837–1901), most burials took place in churchyards. By the early 19th century, rapidly growing cities were running out of room, and overcrowded burial grounds were raising serious concerns about sanitation, disease, and public health.

Something had to change—enter the “garden,” or “rural,” cemetery.

Instead of crowded churchyards, these new cemeteries were designed almost like parks, with winding paths, shady trees, Gothic and Classical architecture, elaborate mausoleums, and statuary worthy of museums. Many doubled as arboretums, and some even had water features. Visitors strolled the paths, painted and sketched, admired the flowers, and, yes, spread a blanket among the headstones for a picnic.

To modern eyes, that might seem odd or even disrespectful, but to Victorians, it was hardly abnormal. Death and mourning were much more visible parts of everyday life, complete with their own customs and etiquette. A visit to the cemetery could be reflective and social at the same time, offering a chance to remember loved ones, enjoy the landscape, and spend an afternoon together.
But there were also “rules” to follow because, really, would it even be Victorian if there weren’t rules?

Common rules included making sure your blanket never covered someone’s grave that wasn’t part of your family, dressing respectfully, and bringing food that wasn’t messy to eat. While fun was allowed, loud conversations and rowdy games were frowned upon.

Many families also used the occasion to tidy family plots and place fresh flowers at headstones. Some cemeteries even encouraged visitors with guidebooks and carriage tours. Père Lachaise in Paris, Mount Auburn Cemetery near Boston, Massachusetts, and Green-Wood Cemetery in Brooklyn, New York, were just a few that drew thousands of people on pleasant days. These outings were part memorial, part architectural and botanical tour, and maybe even a discreet way to shop for your future resting place.

By the early 20th century, public parks became more common, giving people other places to gather. At the same time, changing attitudes toward death and mourning gradually made cemeteries feel more solemn and less like places for recreation. The enormous losses associated with World War I and the 1918 influenza pandemic reinforced that shift.

Over time, outings and picnics gave way to Memorial Day events and private family visits. Lunching among the dead fell out of fashion, leaving cemeteries closer to the quiet, contemplative places we know today.

In recent years, though, people have begun looking at historic cemeteries a little differently again. Walking tours, historical talks, preservation programs, and community events are bringing visitors back, not simply to mourn, but to learn about the people and communities represented there. For family historians especially, cemeteries can be remarkable archives, filled with names, dates, relationships, and stories waiting to be rediscovered.

Chico Cemetery has its own place in this larger story. Originally part of John Bidwell’s Rancho Chico, some of its earliest burials were connected to the ranch. The cemetery’s first recorded interment was Amos E. Frye, a Rancho Chico worker who died in June 1852 and whom Bidwell later recalled as “the 1st man buried in Chico Cemetery.”

The Chico Cemetery Association was established in the early 1860s, and in 1864 Bidwell deeded this portion of his ranch to the association. Over the decades that followed, it became the resting place of generations of Chico residents, including Bidwells themselves.

Today, walking through the older sections of Chico Cemetery is a little like walking through the community’s history, with familiar names, family connections, and stories preserved in stone. That makes it a particularly fitting place to revisit a tradition that would have been perfectly familiar to many Victorians.

So perhaps a picnic in a cemetery is not quite as strange as it first sounds. On October 17, 2026, we’ll borrow a page from the Victorians and gather in the historic section of Chico Cemetery for good food, wonderful company, and stories about the people who helped shape our community.

Woodland Cemetery in Dayton, Ohio, circa 1890. Courtesy Woodland Cemetery and Arboretum

Enjoying a book and a snack at St. Paul's Church, New York City, circa 1890. Image: Library of Congress

John Bidwell's grave marker in Chico Cemetery, c. 1900. Image courtesy of California State University, Chico, Meriam Library Special Collection.

Children and two women posed by a Civil War cannon in the Chico Cemetery, c. 1912. Image courtesy of California State University, Chico, Meriam Library Special Collection.

Sylvester Eastman's grave, c. 1919. A small marker on the right reads Lydia Kroninger, 1886-1916. Other markers are Miller and McMillian. Probably section 15 in the Chico Cemetery. Image courtesy of California State University, Chico, Meriam Library Special Collection.