Our Love Affair with Picnics — The Moveable Feast — Food and Ritual

(Image credit: [Stone] Tanglewood picnickers circa 1947. Photo by Erika Stone.)

For the first six months of her life, my daughter lived entirely on picnics. A mother’s moveable feast — packed not in a basket, but a nursing bra — taught her that eating was a pleasure to be had wherever you might find yourself. Then at the six-month solid-food milestone, mealtimes suddenly became lessons in modern civility: silverware, linen (aka bibs), and being confined to a chair rather than reclining as if at a Roman banquet.

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