Our story — Meet MARCEL
Pine Wares really started with a wobbly second-hand table in our dining room. I was living in suburban Adelaide with two little ones, juggling school runs and a part-time admin job that didn’t even cover the mortgage. One weekend, I decided to fix the table instead of tossing it out. I borrowed a sander from a neighbour, and after a few hours in the shed, I could see something special under the scratches and dents. That table is still with us today, though it now sits in our workshop in the Noosa Hinterland.
Before all this, I had never planned to work with wood, let alone run a business. My background was in customer service and compliance, and I hadn’t touched a saw since Year 9 woodwork class. But after fixing that table, I couldn’t stop wondering what else I could make. I spent months experimenting in the evenings, using second-hand timber from local salvage yards. The first sale was a pine shelf, bought by a friend for $40 in 2015. I was shocked anyone would pay for something I made.
Things really kicked off in early 2017, when I started an Etsy store during school hours. I’d named it after my youngest, who had a habit of pointing out pine trees on our morning walks. Orders trickled in slowly, but by Christmas, I had sold over 200 pieces, including some custom items. At that point, it was clear this was more than a hobby — it was starting to cover the bills in a way admin work never could. So I scaled back my hours there and leaned into Pine Wares.
These days, we source materials as close to home as possible, often within Queensland. Most mornings, you’ll find me in the workshop, shaping timber or packing orders. It’s still very much a school-hours operation, though, because for me, this has always been about having more time for family, not less.
— Thanks for supporting what started at my kitchen table. — MARCEL, MARCEL MAEDER
Journal
Red Cedar Shelves and Where It’s From
The red cedar for our shelves comes from an old mill in Gympie — here’s the story behind it.
I get a lot of questions about the red cedar shelves, mostly about the wood itself. The red cedar we use is Australian red cedar, which isn’t technically a cedar. It’s a rainforest tree, unique to this part of the world. Ours comes from a small mill up in Gympie, about two hours from here. They specialise in salvaged timbers — old barns, bridges, and buildings that are being carefully dismantled instead of demolished.
The last big batch we bought had a story attached to it. It came from a Queenslander house built in the 1920s. The milling process is slow work, as the wood’s often got nails or screws embedded. They run a metal detector over everything to avoid expensive mistakes. By the time it gets to us, those scars in the timber are part of the story.
I prefer not to sand out too much of the history. You’ll often see faint marks from the original sawmills or little gaps where nails used to be. It’s the opposite of mass-produced flat-pack stuff. These shelves feel like they’ve seen things. When I was sanding one last week, I found a tiny square hollow where a knot had fallen out. I filled it with resin, but the imperfection is still there. It’s a reminder that trees, like people, aren’t symmetrical.
People sometimes ask if it’s hard to work with timber that’s already lived a life. It’s not easy, but it beats working with new, green wood that doesn’t behave itself. This timber is dry and settled. When I cut it, it’s not going to shift or warp in six months. Plus, it smells amazing when you plane it. That warm, slightly spicy scent is unmistakably red cedar.
So next time you see one of our shelves, you’ll know a bit more about where it came from. It’s not just wood—it’s history. And it’s satisfying to know that what was once part of a home is now still useful, still beautiful, and still here in Queensland.
Spring, a Pine Table, and a Picnic Inside
Our kids set up a spring picnic on the reclaimed pine table last weekend, complete with baby carrots and cupcakes.
Last Saturday, there was a storm brewing outside, and the kids were restless. They decided to have an indoor picnic — right on our reclaimed pine dining table. It’s the biggest stable surface they’ve got access to, apparently. I was hesitant at first (jam sandwiches and sticky hands aren’t great for timber), but then I thought, why not?
There were hand-written menus, baby carrots arranged into flowers, and cupcakes decorated with way too many sprinkles. I think my favourite part was the 'mocktail bar' they set up in jam jars, complete with tiny umbrellas. It reminded me that we’ve eaten on this table so many different ways over the years. From rushed weeknight spaghetti to slow Sunday roasts, it’s where a lot of the family happens.
The wood itself is from old pine beams, probably 60 or 70 years old before they were retired. It’s not fancy wood, but it’s honest. I sand it down and oil it so it can stand up to spills. And it does — the mocktails didn’t leave so much as a watermark. Though I do recommend coasters if you’re serving real cocktails.
What I love most is that it doesn’t mind a bit of rough treatment. The table isn’t precious, and it’s not supposed to be. It’s meant to see scratches and knife marks and kids learning to write their names. That’s what gives it character over time — and it avoids the plastic tablecloths I grew up with.
By the end of the day, the kids had turned the 'picnic' into a board game marathon, and I was watching the magpies outside while clearing up crumbs. That table saw so much action in one day, and it’s still there, solid as ever. That’s what I want for the pieces we make — to be used, and used well.
Why Bamboo for Our Laptop Stands
Our bamboo laptop stands are simple, sturdy, and practical — but picking bamboo wasn’t just an aesthetic decision.
When I started sketching the laptop stand design, I kept going back to one thing: weight. I knew it needed to travel easily between the office, the dining table, and occasionally the couch. If it was heavy, it’d stay in one spot forever, which defeats the whole point.
Bamboo ticked a lot of boxes for the material. It’s light, the grain is strong, and it’s easier to machine than I expected. I buy the sheets pre-laminated from a supplier in Brisbane. They come in big slabs, about 2400 by 1200 millimetres, and each one weighs less than most hardwood planks half the size. I can cut about 15 stands out of a single sheet, and there’s not much waste.
One thing I learned the hard way: bamboo dulls blades quicker than timber. It’s full of silica, which is like sandpaper on your tools. I’ve gone through three sets of router bits already. But it’s worth it for the smooth finish and the way the grain catches the light. It just looks clean and modern, no fuss.
I use Danish oil on the finished stands, which gives them a light sheen without making them slippery. A good stand should be basically invisible when you’re using it. The focus should be on the work you’re doing, not the thing propping up your laptop. People have told me they use theirs for sketching, reading sheet music, and even propping up cookbooks.
It’s fun to see how a simple object can fit into so many different lives, all while doing its job quietly. And at the end of the day, I like knowing I’m working with a material that’s as practical as it is good-looking. That’s a rare combination.
Autumn’s Here, Time to Oil Your Wood
Dry air in autumn can be tough on wood. Here’s how I keep our pieces looking their best through the season.
When the air starts to dry out in April, I always notice it first in the workshop. Timber that’s been behaving all summer will suddenly start to feel different under the sander. It’s the same at home — our cutting boards and tabletops need a bit more care this time of year.
One of the easiest ways to protect your wooden pieces in autumn is a simple oil refresher. I use food-grade mineral oil on cutting boards and beeswax polish on furniture. It’s a quick job, maybe 10 minutes per piece. You might notice the grain drinking it up more than usual, which is a sign it’s overdue.
If you’re working with a dining table, it’s a good idea to sand lightly before you oil, especially if you’ve had a lot of spills or scratches over summer. I use a fine grit, usually 240, and work with the grain. It makes a huge difference to how well the oil penetrates.
One thing to keep in mind: don’t overdo it. A thin layer of oil is better than soaking the wood, which can leave it sticky. Wipe off the excess after about half an hour, and it’ll be good to go. For cutting boards, I rub the oil in with a clean cloth, like an old T-shirt, and let it sit overnight. By morning, they look as good as new.
Taking care of wood isn’t complicated, but it does need a bit of attention, especially during seasonal changes. A little time now will save you sanding out deep cracks or stains later. And it’s oddly satisfying to see a well-used piece come back to life, ready for another season.
How Acacia Boards Became a Kitchen Favourite
The oval acacia board was a mistake originally — then it turned out to be everyone’s favourite shape.
When we first started making cutting boards, I stuck to rectangles. Seemed logical — easy to cut, easy to stack, no wasted wood. But one day I miscalculated while cutting an acacia plank, and the off-cut was this strange oval shape. I sanded it down anyway, as a test, and that became the first one we sold.
Turns out, ovals are incredibly handy. There are no bulky corners to bump against, and they’re easier to balance when carrying food around the kitchen. I’ve seen people use them as serving trays for cheese, fruit, or even mini pavlovas. Someone once told me it was the perfect size for slicing mangoes, because the rounded edge mimics the fruit.
The acacia we use is plantation-grown, and I get it from a supplier near Toowoomba. It’s dense, durable, and has that warm golden tone that looks good in any kitchen. The boards are all finished with a chamfered edge, which makes them more comfortable to pick up one-handed. Little things like that make a difference when you’re juggling knives and chopping garlic.
I still make the original rectangles, but the oval boards are now our best-sellers. People seem to like the softer shape, which feels a bit different from your typical cutting board. I’ve even started experimenting with other shapes, like rounded squares, just to see if they catch on in the same way.
Sometimes the best ideas really do come from mistakes. I didn’t plan to make ovals, but now I can’t imagine the range without them. It’s fun to think that something as small as the shape of a board can bring a bit of joy to someone’s kitchen.
A Quiet Easter in the Hinterland
This Easter, we stayed local — a slower pace, a few hikes, and a lot of time at the dining table.
Easter’s usually a busy one for us. There’s always a last-minute order to finish, and the kids are hyped up on chocolate. But this year, we stayed local and kept things quiet. Noosa Hinterland in autumn is beautiful — warm days, cool nights, and the kind of light that makes everything look golden.
We started Good Friday with hot cross buns at the dining table, still warm from the oven. It’s the table we’ve had since before the business was a business. I made it during my first year experimenting with reclaimed pine, and it’s been the centre of so many family meals since. This weekend, it held bun crumbs, coffee mugs, and a half-finished jigsaw puzzle all at once.
Most of the weekend was spent outdoors. We hiked Tewantin National Park on Saturday morning, which was packed because everyone else had the same idea. The kids collected sticks and rocks while I tried to keep them from filling their backpacks with 'souvenirs'. Later, we swung by the Eumundi markets for a browse and some snacks.
Back at home, the slower pace gave me time to think about the pieces we make and how they fit into daily life. Seeing the table covered with mismatched placemats and the cutting board piled with cheese reminded me why I do this. It’s not showpiece furniture — it’s stuff that gets used, messily and often.
By Monday night, we were all a bit sunburned and very full from leftovers. And as I cleared the table, I realised it’s the same rhythm every year. A few quiet days, a bit of chaos, and a lot of time sitting down together. That’s the kind of Easter I like best.