Some visitors to Homer Watson House & Gallery haven’t needed much help from the staff.

Someone had already looked after them, they explained. An older woman. Hair in a bun. Victorian dress.

A lovely detail for a historic house in Doon, until you hear what gallery staff member Ralf Wall told a radio interviewer in 2021: the gallery didn’t have anyone working in period costume.

Yet, he said, visitors had been describing this woman for decades.

Her name, according to the gallery’s ghost stories, is Phoebe Watson.

She died on October 22, 1947. Tomorrow marks 79 years.

Apparently, retirement hasn’t entirely taken.

Before we get to the footsteps and strange encounters, though, you should meet the actual Phoebe. Because being remembered only as someone’s ghost would sell this woman rather short.

She painted landscapes and portraits, decorated china, ran an art shop in Galt and taught others to paint. In 1897, she was one of sixteen Canadian women artists selected to contribute to a historical dinner service. Her contribution? Twelve soup bowls painted with Canadian scenes.

Her brother Homer became the more famous Watson. After his wife died in 1918, Phoebe moved into his home to help with the household and his adopted daughter. She kept making art, teaching, gardening and hosting Sunday teas.

When Homer died in 1936, Phoebe stayed on as curator, welcoming people and looking after his work until her own death eleven years later.

Which makes the stories about her rather fitting.

Kitchener Public Library recounts reports of Phoebe carrying artwork down the stairs, watching an art class and speaking with visitors.

Not rattling chains. Checking on things.

Mind you, this house had an unusual relationship with the afterlife long before Phoebe supposedly joined it.

Homer held séances in the parlour. After losing his wife, he reported seeing her at the bottom of the staircase, surrounded by an amber light. The gallery’s historical account describes the experience as a comfort to him, one that helped him return to painting.

And among the people who shared his interest in séances was his friend William Lyon Mackenzie King.

Yes, that Mackenzie King. A local ghost story with a prime minister in the supporting cast.

Back to Phoebe.

Wall also described a less welcoming encounter: a sign fell outside, he went to retrieve it, and the front door closed and locked behind him. He attributed it to Phoebe. His coworkers, he said, found the story funny.

Then there were the papers. Wall spoke of researchers finding a useful old article on the floor when it should have been tucked away in a cabinet. His interpretation was that Phoebe liked helping.

Of course, these are reported experiences, not proof of a resident ghost. You can enjoy the stories and keep your eyebrows raised.

But I like that this particular legend remembers a woman doing something she actually did in life: making people welcome and caring about the art.

Tomorrow is the anniversary of her death. Perhaps a good excuse to discover her work, alongside her brother’s, at the house on Old Mill Road.

And if a woman in Victorian dress offers you a little help?

Would you stay for a chat, or suddenly remember you’ve left something in the car?

with love,

🦆 your friendly neighbourhood goose