Tag: Canadian Cemeteries

Cemetery Stories: Burwash Industrial Prison Farm Graveyard

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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.

  • Burwash Industrial Prison Farm Graveyard, Burwash ON ©2024

Burwash Industrial Prison Farm

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

Burwash Industrial Prison Farm, Burwash ON ©2010

Burwash Industrial Prison Farm Graveyard

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.

Burwash Industrial Prison Farm Graveyard, Burwash ON ©2010

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.

They can be forgotten—but they shouldn’t be.

Burwash Industrial Prison Farm Graveyard, Burwash ON ©2024

Burwash Today

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.

Thanks for reading!

References:

  1. Burwash Industrial Farm | Ontario Heritage Trust
  2. The History – Burwash and a Town Within | History of Burwash Industrial Farm
  3. Burwash Correctional Center | Atlas Obscura
  4. The sole reminder of a long-vanished town – Abandoned Ontario jail a favourite among urban explorers | Canadian Military History
  5. This Haunted Prison in Burwash, Ontario | Reddit
  6. Burwash Industrial Prison Farm Graveyard | Find a Grave
  7. Who died at Burwash? When the 1918 flu epidemic collided with Canada’s ‘enemy aliens’ policy | Sudbury.com

Stone Stories: The Tangled Truth of J.E.H. MacDonald

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On a recent trip to Toronto with my fiancé, we found ourselves with a bit of free time to explore—and for me, that usually means a visit to a cemetery.

Our friends we were staying with suggested we take a walk to Prospect Cemetery, one of the larger and more historic burial grounds in Toronto. It was a chilly, grey day for late April, but despite the dreary weather, it was perfect for a quiet stroll.

There’s something extra special about sharing my love of cemeteries with others. I pointed out some grave symbolism along the way, and our friend—who used to bring their daughter here to bike ride—showed us some of their favourite gravestones.

But I also had a bit of a personal mission too: to visit the grave of J.E.H. MacDonald, one of the founding members of The Group of Seven.

  • Portrait of J.E.H. MacDonald
    Portrait of J.E.H. MacDonald. Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

J.E.H. MacDonald

James Edward Hervey MacDonald was born in Durham, England in 1873 and moved to Canada with his family in 1887.1 He trained in commercial art and landed a job at Grip Ltd., a Toronto design firm that turned out to be a creative hot spot for future Group of Seven artists.2

MacDonald mostly painted with oil, a paint that let him build rich textures and bold, expressive brushwork into his landscapes. He had a special talent for using bright, sometimes unnatural colours to set a mood rather than literal realism. His style focused more toward the feelings and spirit of the landscape rather than detailed realism.2

He was especially inspired by the wild landscapes of Algoma and the Rocky Mountains. His 1916 painting The Tangled Garden shows just how much colour and movement played into his work.2 Besides painting, he also taught art and eventually became the principal of the Ontario College of Art in 1929.2 He helped shape not only Canadian art but also the next generation of artists.

  • The Tangled Garden, 1916, National Gallery of Canada, Ottawa, Ontario J. E. H. MacDonald
    The Tangled Garden, 1916, National Gallery of Canada, Ottawa, Ontario J. E. H. MacDonald, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Controversy

MacDonald made headlines again in late 2023—long after his death—but not for the reasons you’d expect.

The Vancouver Art Gallery had been showing ten oil sketches that were believed to be his work, donated back in 2015. But after some doubts were raised, experts took a closer look—and discovered they were fakes!3

Experts tested the pigments, looked at the brushstrokes, and compared the style to his known works. The materials didn’t match what MacDonald would’ve had during his lifetime, and the way the art was created didn’t quite fit either.4

In a refreshing move, the gallery didn’t just quietly pull the pieces—they created a whole exhibit about the forgery, cleverly called A Tangled Garden.4 The title, a nod to MacDonald’s famous painting, added a bit of irony to the situation.

I respect how the gallery handled it. They used the opportunity to teach people about how art is authenticated and how fakes are detected. In the end, MacDonald’s reputation stayed strong—no copy could ever capture the depth and meaning of his real work.

Prospect Cemetery

J.E.H. MacDonald passed away in 1932 after suffering a stroke. He was only 59. He’s buried in the family plot in Prospect Cemetery in Toronto.5 His grave is simple, tucked away among the rows of headstones. A foot stone with his initials J.E.H.M., and his birth and death dates sits in front of a larger family stone with the MacDonald name. Next to it is another foot stone marked W.H.M. / 1876—1956. I’m not certain, but I believe he might be laid to rest beside his brother, William Henry MacDonald.

There is another foot stone in the MacDonald family plot that is a bit of a mystery. The stone is engraved with the letters J.E.M. and the dates 1920-1926. Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to uncover any details about this child’s grave.

Standing in front of MacDonald’s grave felt like another little win in my personal journey to visit the final resting places of all the Group of Seven artists. This was the third grave I’ve visited so far, and I find it fascinating how different each artist’s marker is.

Despite their fame, none of their gravestones are flashy. Like Franklin Carmichael’s grave, MacDonald’s grave didn’t have any grave goods—no paintbrushes, no small stones, no tiny canvases. But there was something powerful about the peacefulness of the spot.

The family plot of J.E.H. MacDonald. Prospect Cemetery, Toronto ON ©2025

There’s something grounding about visiting the grave of someone whose work you admire. You see where their story ended, but you also carry part of their legacy with you. That day in Prospect, under grey skies and the hum of city life just beyond the trees, felt like the perfect moment to reflect on MacDonald’s impact.

Whether through his bright, expressive paintings or the recent conversations around art authenticity, J.E.H. MacDonald still shapes how we see Canada. His grave may be modest, but his influence on Canadian art is anything but.

Thanks for reading!

References:

  1. J. E. H. MacDonald | The Canadian Encyclopedia
  2. James Edward Hervey MacDonald | The Group of Seven
  3. These Group of Seven artist’s sketches are fake — and that’s the point of this Vancouver Art Gallery exhibit | CBC
  4. Museum Realizes Ten J.E.H. MacDonald Sketches Are Fakes—and Puts Them on Display | Smithsonian Magazine
  5. J E H MacDonald | Mount Pleasant Group

A Collection of Gates Ajar

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If you spend a lot of time in cemeteries, you’ll notice certain symbols popping up again and again—some are familiar, others are a bit more unusual. One symbol I’ve come across often in my cemetery travels is a set of open gates, standing slightly ajar.

So today on the blog, I wanted to take a closer look at this symbol: what it means, where it comes from, and share a few of the interesting examples I’ve photographed over the years.

  • The gates ajar, covered in orange lichen
    Grandview Cemetery, Massey ON ©2022

There’s something poetic about the image of an open gate. It feels like an invitation or a sign that something—or someone—is waiting just beyond. Sometimes the symbols are ornate, with intricate columns on either side, while others are much simpler.

The “gates ajar” motif has been around for more than a hundred years and was especially common in Victorian and early 20th-century cemeteries. It reflects a comforting belief that death is not the end, but a passage. These gates represent the soul entering Heaven or the afterlife, offering hope and comfort to those left behind.1

  • The graves ajar engraved on a gravestone
    Golden Valley Cemetery, Golden Valley ON ©2023
  • A red granite gravestone engraved with the gates ajar.
    Merrill Cemetery, Roseneath ON ©2022
  • The gates ajar engraved on a grey tombstone
    St. John’s Cemetery, Eagle Lake ON ©2022
  • The gates ajar on a gravestone
    Nipissing Junction Union Cemetery, North Bay ON ©2022
  • The gates ajar engraved on a gravestone
    Nipissing Junction Union Cemetery, North Bay ON ©2022
  • The gates ajar engraved on a tombstone
    Fairview Cemetery, Niagara Falls ON ©2025
  • A gravestone carving of a gate that is slightly open revealing a latin cross.
    St. Jacques Cemetery, Hanmer ON ©2021

Interestingly, this symbol became even more popular after the release of a novel called The Gates Ajar by Elizabeth Stuart Phelps. Published in 1868, just after the U.S. Civil War, the book follows a young woman grieving her brother. In the book, her aunt explains that the gates of Heaven are never fully closed. Instead, they stay slightly open, allowing souls to move between this world and the next. The book was controversial for its ideas but became a bestseller, inspiring everything from sheet music to flower arrangements…and gravestone symbolism.2

  • The gates ajar engraved on a red granite tombstone
    Lasalle Cemetery, Sudbury ON ©2011

Next time you’re walking through a cemetery, take a look around. You might spot a gate carved in stone, just slightly open—and find yourself thinking about what might be on the other side.

Thanks for reading!

References:

  1. Gravestone symbols and their meanings (PDF) | Wolf Memorial
  2. Headstone Symbols: Gates Ajar | Save the Graves

Stone Stories: Sudbury’s Ghost Bike

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Bicycles often represent freedom and joy, but when painted flat white and placed by the roadside, they carry a much heavier meaning.

These “ghost bikes” mark the sites where cyclists have lost their lives, serving as haunting memorials and powerful reminders of the need for safer streets.

  • Sudbury’s Ghost Bike, in memory of Dr. Robert D’Aloisio. Sudbury ON ©2025

The History of Ghost Bikes

Ghost bikes are roadside memorials placed at locations where cyclists have been killed in traffic accidents. The bikes, painted entirely white, serve both as a tribute to the fallen and as a warning to motorists to share the road and drive safely.1

The first documented ghost bike appeared in St. Louis, Missouri, in 2003. A cyclist named Patrick Van Der Tuin witnessed a car hit a fellow rider and decided to take action. He placed an old bicycle at the crash site with a sign reading, “Cyclist Struck Here.”2

The idea spread quickly, and soon cities around the world began installing their own ghost bikes in memory of lost cyclists.

Beyond their role as memorials, ghost bikes have become global symbols for cycling advocacy. They are often installed by local organizations or loved ones who want to honour victims and raise awareness about road safety.2

Sudbury’s Ghost Bike

Ghost bikes aren’t unusual in Canada—they mark the tragic losses in communities just like mine. In my hometown of Sudbury, in 2017, a white bicycle appeared in memory of Dr. Robert Santo “Bob” D’Aloisio, a local cyclist who was struck and killed in a tragic accident.

His death deeply affected the community, sparking conversations about road safety and the need for better cycling infrastructure.3

It was a bit of a dreary day when my mother and I went to visit the ghost bike. It’s secured to a parking lot railing outside of an apartment complex on a busy street. I’ve driven by it many times but only really noticed it recently. The white bike blends into the white of the railing, so unless you’re looking for it, you might miss it entirely. That in itself feels symbolic—how easy it is to overlook something so significant if you’re not paying attention.

We kept our visit short since I didn’t want to take up anyone’s parking spot, but I made sure to take a moment to pause and reflect. While I was taking photos, I looked up at the tall apartment buildings surrounding us and thought about how someone could’ve easily witnessed the accident from their window.

Even after nine years, the ghost bike remains—a quiet, persistent reminder of the loss that took place there.

Sudbury’s Ghost Bike, in memory of Dr. Robert D’Aloisio. Sudbury ON ©2025

D’Aloisio’s passing was a devastating loss for his family and the cycling community. His loved ones continue to advocate for greater awareness and protection for cyclists. His story is a haunting reminder of the dangers cyclists face and the responsibility of all road users to ensure their safety.4

Park Lawn Cemetery

After visiting the ghost bike, we headed to our second stop—the cemetery.

Robert D’Aloisio is laid to rest at Park Lawn Cemetery. The cemetery itself is peaceful and tucked away, a contrast to the busy road where his memorial stands. The moment we stepped out of the car, it felt quieter, more reflective. I felt like I needed to visit both sites: the place where his life ended, and the place where he now rests.

The sun was beginning to peek out as we arrived, and the birds were singing. We wandered the gently curving paths for a few minutes before we came upon the D’Aloisio family plot. His gravestone is elegantly simple: polished granite with the family name at the top and a Latin cross separating his name from his wife’s, who is still living.

Visiting his stone, after having just stood at the place where his life was cut short, felt as if the threads of his story had tied together—from tragedy to rest.

  • Park Lawn Cemetery, Sudbury ON ©2025

Ghost bikes are powerful symbols, but the ultimate goal is to make them unnecessary.

Their presence speaks to the need for safer infrastructure, stricter enforcement of traffic laws, and a cultural shift toward respecting all road users. In Ontario and beyond, cyclists, pedestrians, and drivers must all coexist with caution and compassion.

With the warmer weather returning, more cyclists are hitting the roads. It’s a timely reminder for all of us—whether we’re behind the wheel, on a bike, or on foot—to slow down and share the road.

D’Aloisio’s story, like that of many others, is a call to action. Let’s honour his memory by advocating for safer roads and ensuring that cyclists can ride without fear.

Thanks for reading!

References:

  1. Ghost Bike FAQ | Advocacy for Respect for Cyclists
  2. Ghost Bike | Wikipedia
  3. Sudbury ‘ghost bike’ a haunting reminder | Sudbury Star
  4. Father’s cycling death haunts Sudbury family | Sudbury Star

The Beauty and Symbolism of Cemeteries in the Spring

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Spring is finally here! After months of snow and cold, it’s so refreshing to feel the sun again and hear the birds singing. Everything is starting to wake up—even cemeteries.

There’s something calming about walking through a cemetery while the trees are budding and the flowers are in bloom. The air smells fresher, and the world feels full of new beginnings. It’s a gentle reminder that life keeps going, even after loss.

  • A leaf budding on a branch.
    Civic Cemetery, Sudbury ON ©2025

Spring is all about growth and change. Trees grow new leaves, flowers bloom, and the grass turns green again. In cemeteries, this feels extra meaningful. You’re surrounded by the past, but everywhere you look there are also signs of new life. Even in places of rest, life still finds a way to come back.

You can often find flowers carved into gravestones, each carrying their own special meaning. Roses are one of the most common, with a variety of meanings based on how they are depicted. A full rose usually represents love or beauty, while a rose with a broken stem is thought to symbolize a life cut down in their prime. A rosebud with a broken stem, on the other hand, represents a young life cut short.1

  • Vasey United Cemetery, Vasey ON ©2024

Tulips are the only flower that continues to grow after they have been cut from the bulb. This might be why tulips as a gravestone symbol, are thought to represent eternal life.1

  • Plum Hollow Cemetery, Plum Hollow ON ©2024

My first cemetery road trip of the season happened at the end of April, when my Mom and I headed to Bracebridge to explore the area. We visited four cemeteries that day, a little library, and a Rotary garden that hadn’t started blooming yet.

An ice storm had hit the area a few weeks earlier, and there was still a lot of damage in the cemeteries. Branches were down, trees had snapped, and the usual spring cleanup hadn’t happened yet.

  • Port Carling Cemetery, Port Carling ON ©2025

Still, even with the mess left behind by the storm, I could see signs of spring trying to break through. The birds were singing again in places that had been silent all winter.

Spring doesn’t always arrive quickly, and it’s not always neat and pretty. My trip to Bracebridge reminded me of that. But just like the cycle of life and death, the seasons keep moving forward. Even after hard times, beauty does return. Cemeteries in the spring shows us that healing happens, growth is always possible, and memories live on in every blooming flower and standing stone.

So whether you’re out for a peaceful walk, taking photos, or just enjoying the sunshine, take a few minutes to breathe in some of that fresh air, and enjoy the flowers around you. Cemeteries in spring are full of quiet beauty and gentle reminders that life is blooming all around us—if we take the time to look.

Thanks for reading!

References:

  1. Understanding Cemetery Symbols: A Field Guide for Historic Graveyards by Tui Snider

Fun Cemetery Facts for Cemetery Appreciation Month

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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.

Infographic displaying Canadian cemetery facts, including total burial sites in Ontario, oldest gravestone dates, and military cemeteries across Canada.

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!

References:

  1. Unregistered Cemeteries | Ontario Ancestors
  2. Images show Canada’s oldest graveyard could be in Annapolis Royal | Toronto Star
  3. Cemeteries | Government of Canada
  4. Back Roads Bill takes us to the oldest graves in Ontario | Sudbury.com

Tiny Tombstones and Big Stories: Visiting Little Canada

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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

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 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.

Thanks for reading!

Cemetery Stories: House of Industry & Refuge Cemetery

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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.

  • House of Industry and Refuge Cemetery, Fergus
    House of Industry and Refuge Cemetery, Fergus ON ©2024

Wellington County Museum and Archives

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.

  • Wellington County Museum and Archives
    Wellington County Museum and Archives, Fergus ON ©2024

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.

Wellington County Museum and Archives, Fergus ON ©2024

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.

House of Industry and Refuge Cemetery, Fergus ON ©2024

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.

Thanks for reading!

References:

  1. About Us | Wellington County Museum and Archives
  2. Plan a Visit | Wellington County Museum and Archives
  3. The Poor House Story | Wellington County Museum and Archives
  4. Historic Haunts Tour | Guess Where Trips
  5. House of Industry & Refuge Cemetery | Find a Grave

A Collection of Chalices

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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

  • Blezard Valley Cemetery, Blezard Valley ON ©2021
  • St. Mary’s Cemetery, Sturgeon Falls ON ©2021

Cemetery Fugèreville, Fugèreville QC ©2024

Saint-Stanislas-de-Champlain Cemetery, Saint-Stanislas-de-Champlain QC ©2012

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

Cimetière de Laverlochère, Laverlochere QC ©2024

Cimetière de Latulipe, Gaboury QC ©2024

Cimetière d’Angliers, Angliers QC ©2024

  • Our Lady of Peace Cemetery also known as Shrine Church of Our Lady of Peace Cemetery, Niagara Falls ON ©2024

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:

  1. Understanding Cemetery Symbols: A Field Guide for Historic Graveyards by Tui Snider
  2. Headstone Symbols: Understanding Cemetery Symbolism | Everlife Memorials

Stone Stories: The Youngest Member of the Group of Seven

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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.

The Carmichael family plot.
The gravestone of Franklin Carmichael
The gravestone of Franklin Carmichael's daughter, and son-in-law.

The Carmichael family plot. St. Andrews and St. James Cemetery, also known as St. Andrews Cemetery, St. James Cemetery, Orillia ON ©2024

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.

Thanks for reading!

References:

  1. Franklin Carmichael | The Group of Seven
  2. Teachers and Their Enduring Impact—The Legacy of Jose Salas | Orillia Museum of Art & History
  3. Franklin Carmichael | Roberts Gallery
  4. Mary Franklin Carmichael Mastin | Find a Grave