12/14/2025
The Last Cut of the Season
A Word from Sawmill Sid
As this year closes, folks, the mill is getting quiet. The great blades are finally coming to a short rest, and the air smells like the sharp promise of winter. I’m leaning against the hard cold carriage, watching my breath steam, and I’m finding myself incredibly, profoundly thankful for you and the sawdust.
I wanted to speak to you, my viewer, directly, because you know I’m usually the one swinging the axe / chainsaw and running the saws, never the one leaning on it. All my life, I've been the one dropping off split oak for strangers, standing guard for friends fighting their demons through drugs and alcohol, supporting groups.
Always being there. Giving a hand, a meal, or a dollar to those who felt lost. That’s just what we do here in Ontario, isn't it?
But this year... this year, the weight of those battles finally settled on my own shoulders. I was feeling heartbroken and so very defeated, ready to lay my hat down right here in the dirt.
And that’s where you all came in.
Life lessons never seem to stop, do they? The hardest one I learned this year wasn’t about wood or machinery; it was about receiving.
I'm talking about the long list of friends, family, and colleagues from across this province—plumbers, retired woodworkers, politicians, policemen, volunteer and professional firemen, builders, lawyer's, faith healers, designers ,doctors, and just reg folk at the end of the day.
You all felt me, you heard me, and you opened your doors. You let me in, supported me, and put on your shields to help me rise emotionally.
I was here just now, thinking of all the coffees, teas and treats and conversations from you over the year! Coming to the woodlot some times just to check in, and get your healing if needed.
That’s when it hit me. All those years I put up my shield for some of you, I forgot I needed one, too. I wanted to drop my hat in the dirt this year. But you picked it up, dusted it off, and put it back on my head.
That’s how it works with good people when one of their own is hurting.
I am, we are all, forever grateful to every single one of you.
From the bottom of my heart, as this year closes, I just have one word for you all:
Miigwetch.
(Photo by Stephen Urhaney)
