Cedar

Cedar is light, aromatic, and naturally rot‑resistant because of the way it evolved in rain‑soaked forests. This Ramble looks at the deep‑time adaptations that shape cedar’s behaviour in the shop and why its scent carries memory like nothing else.

Read time: 6 minutes


Of all the woods I’ve worked with—maple, oak, walnut, cherry—nothing is like cedar. Nothing is as warm, as soft, or as aromatic. Cedar is light, full of knots and splits, and its sawdust clings to me more than any other wood. It dents and scratches easily. And yet, despite all its flaws, I really like working with it.

Cedar doesn’t demand the perfection that maple or walnut insist on. It’s an outdoor, summer wood—built for gatherings, good times, and weather that comes and goes. It sits outside in rain and sun without complaint, and year after year it still looks good. Wash it off now and then and it’s ready for another season.

Partially built wooden Adirondack chair in a woodworking shop, fully assembled and ready for sanding and finish, with curved slat back, wide armrests, and tools visible in the background.

Where Cedar Begins

Cedar carries its history in every board — the lightness, the knots, the scent that rises the moment a tool touches it. Standing here in the shop, this piece of cedar feels like a link between deep time and everyday work. The same oils that protected it in rain‑soaked forests now rise into the air as I shape it, filling the shop with that sharp, sweet aroma that never leaves your clothes. Even unfinished, cedar has a presence: soft under the hand, forgiving in the cut, and honest in the way it shows every mark. It’s a reminder that some woods don’t just build things — they bring their whole story with them.

Cedar is a softwood—light, airy, and naturally rot resistant. That’s why it’s the go‑to for outdoor furniture, decks, and anything that needs to survive the elements. It takes stain well and lasts for years. I wrote a story about its longevity called Old Cedar. Every wood has a personality, a way of behaving. Cedar’s behaviour goes back a long way, and to understand it, you have to step into deep time.

Two hundred million years ago, the world was dominated by trees that looked like modern spruce and pine. These needle trees thrived in dry, windy places with thin soils. I wrote about this in Hardwood vs Softwood—how needle trees were built for drought and exposure, but struggled in wet soils and rainy climates. Those wetter lands were open territory.

Cedar evolved later—around 70 to 50 million years ago—as a tree specialized for wet, boggy, rain‑soaked environments. And the biggest problem in those places wasn’t wind or drought. It was rot. Wet ground promotes insects, fungi, moss, and mold. Cedar survived by developing chemical defences. That sharp, sweet aroma you smell when you cut cedar—that’s the tree’s antifungal armour. Those oils run through the wood, protecting it from decay.

But chemistry alone wasn’t enough. Cedar also needed wood that could survive in wet, low‑oxygen soils. Dense wood rots fast in those conditions, so cedar evolved thin cell walls and big air‑filled spaces to let oxygen move through the wood. That’s why cedar is so light. Once that combination evolved—rot‑resistant oils and low‑density, airy wood—cedars spread into the wet, shaded environments that suited them.

In some regions with constant rain and fierce competition for light, cedar grew tall. Very tall. Western Red Cedar, the one we buy from BC, can reach incredible heights and massive trunk diameters. Light wood makes that possible—it’s easier to grow upward when you’re not carrying your own weight like a burden.

Eastern White Cedar branch from Manitoba, showing bright green scale‑like foliage in close‑up against a warm blurred background.

Cedar: The Wood That Remembers

Cedar has a way of holding on to things — moisture, scent, memory. Its leaves are built like scales, layered and tight, shaped by millions of years of rain‑soaked evolution. When you look closely at a cedar branch, you can see the architecture of survival: thin cells, airy spaces, oils that keep rot at bay. That same structure shows up in the boards we work with today, light in the hand and rich in aroma. Cedar doesn’t just grow; it endures. And every piece carries the quiet history of the forests it came from.

And if you’ve ever wondered about their leaves, cedar doesn’t have needles like pine or spruce because it didn’t evolve in dry, windy places. Its scale‑like leaves are built for moisture retention and low‑light forest floors. Cedars are shade tolerant, but they do well in medium light and full sun too, depending on the species. Eastern White Cedar from Manitoba to the east coast. And Western Red Cedar from BC can handle almost any light conditions.

Cedar also lives a long time — far longer than most people realize. Western Red Cedar from BC can live well over a thousand years, with some old‑growth giants passing the 1,500‑year mark. Eastern White Cedar is smaller, but it’s just as tough, often reaching 200 to 400 years in the wild. Because they grow slowly and resist rot so well, cedars aren’t harvested young. Eastern White Cedar is usually cut around 60 to 100 years, depending on size and site conditions, while Western Red Cedar is often harvested anywhere from 80 to 120 years, sometimes older in managed forests. Their longevity — especially in old‑growth stands — is part of what makes cedar feel timeless. The boards we work with today started growing long before we were born.

Cedars are incredible trees that make incredible wood—soft, aromatic, forgiving, and shaped by millions of years of adaptation to places where most trees simply can’t survive. That’s why cedar behaves the way it does in the shop—and why it deserves a room of its own.

Cedar was the first wood I learned on, long before I could drive, and its smell still takes me back in an instant. It lingers on my clothes, in my hair, in the shop air long after the tools stop. A cedar chair feels honest and alive, and people sense it without knowing why. I’ve got chairs that have weathered twenty summers, and I set them out again this year. That simple act—lifting cedar into the sun—always feels like the moment winter finally lets go.

Cedar yoga block used for restorative yoga, resting on a bed of fresh cedar shavings with warm light highlighting the grain.

Cedar Yoga Block: A Breath of the Forest

A cedar yoga block carries its own kind of presence. Warm, light, and shaped by hand, it releases a faint sweetness when the heat rises — a quiet reminder of the forests it came from. During restorative hot yoga, that scent drifts up slowly, grounding the yogi in something older than the practice itself. Cedar doesn’t shout; it reveals itself gently, offering a natural connection to land, breath, and stillness. It’s a small piece of the forest that supports you while you settle deeper into the pose.

 

Deep Scraped Cedar — Grain, Light, and Fire

Cedar is known as an outdoor wood, but when you work it with intention, it becomes something far more expressive. These Deep Scraped Collection pieces show how cedar responds when you raise the grain, brush the earlywood, layer stain and glaze, and seal everything under 2K poly. Cedar’s airy structure takes texture beautifully, and its natural warmth shifts into glow, shadow, and depth when you push it. Charred, glazed, or warmed with cinnamon tones, cedar proves it can live indoors just as easily as it lives outside — and with a little creativity, the variations are endless.

Close‑up of charred cedar wood grain with deep scraping, brushed texture, dark stain, torch‑charred surface, and a 2K poly finish.

Charred Cedar: Deep‑Scraped Grain With Fire and Finish

Charred Cedar — Grain, Fire, and Shadow Cedar already carries its own warmth, but when you add texture and flame, it becomes something entirely different. This charred cedar sample is deep‑scraped to raise the grain, brushed to open the earlywood, stained for tone, kissed with fire for shadow, and finished under 2K poly. The heat darkens the soft parts of the wood, the scraping pulls the structure forward, and the glaze settles into every ridge. Cedar’s natural lightness turns dramatic — a surface shaped by stain, fire, and intention. It’s proof that cedar isn’t just an outdoor wood; it can carry depth, contrast, and mood when you push it.

Close‑up of cinnamon cedar wood grain with deep scraping, warm stain, grey glaze, and a 2K poly finish.

Cinnamon & Cedar: Deep‑Scraped Grain With Warm Glaze and 2K Poly

Cinnamon & Cedar — Warm Grain and Quiet Glow Cedar is more than an outdoor wood — it can glow indoors when you treat it with intention. This Cinnamon & Cedar finish starts with deep scraping to raise the grain, then a warm stain to bring out the natural colour, followed by a soft grey glaze that settles into the texture. A 2K poly seals everything under a calm, velvety surface. Cedar’s airy structure takes finish beautifully, and pieces like this show how easily it can shift from patio furniture to interior warmth. With a little creativity, cedar can move from the yard to the living room and feel at home in both.


Continue this story and read:

Old Cedar


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If you would like to read more about cedar and see more photos, visit The Cedar Gallery

Written by David Flather, Red Seal cabinetmaker and founder of Knotty Dave’s Fine Woodworking — a Manitoba shop rooted in heritage restoration, storytelling, and real craft.

All photos shot by David Flather — in the shop, on the road, and in the places where craft and story meet.

Related stories: Old Cedar, Hardwood vs Softwood

Return to: Shop Rambles


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Wood Doesn’t Lie: Lessons From the Woodpile to the Workshop