Handcrafted Magazine
Tradition · Heritage · American Craft
Closing Shop After 40 Years: Why Russ's Vermont Whirligigs Have to Go to Make Way for Luxury Vacation Rentals
In a quiet corner of Craftsbury, Vermont, retired tinsmith Russell "Russ" Holcomb (73) has spent the last seven years hand-shaping whimsical garden whirligigs from reclaimed tin in an old barn workshop. Now it's coming to an end. The farm where his shop sits has been sold to an out-of-state developer who's converting the property into a luxury vacation rental compound. The cramped house Russ shares with his wife Helen has no room for a soldering torch or a tinsmith's bench — so the last of his "Vermont Whirligigs" has to find good homes before spring. Each piece is a hand-shaped original built on fifty years of tinsmithing experience. Get yourself a real one before his workbench goes cold for good.
A Quiet Morning in Craftsbury, Vermont — Where Tin Still Has a Soul
The barn workshop barely measures 350 square feet. The walls are lined with tin snips, planishing hammers, soldering irons — tools whose wooden handles have been polished smooth from decades of use. A cast-iron stove ticks quietly in the corner, working off the chill of a Vermont morning. Helen's blue enamel coffee mug steams on the workbench. The air smells of solder, enamel paint, and a little bit of old hay from the rafters above.
Half-finished frames in the foreground, finished whirligigs lined up on the back shelf — every piece passes through Russ's hands twice.
On the bench: Russ's pride and joy. A pair of unfinished tin frogs, waiting to be set on a high-wheel bicycle. Beside them, small jars of enamel paint — pine green, butter yellow, fire-engine red for the top hat. Russ runs his thumb along the spokes of the wheel. "Easy now," he says, with a small smile. "That's the most important thing fifty years on the trade ever taught me. If you're in a hurry, it ain't worth doing. Folks today want everything in two days off some app on their phone. But that's not how you build something that's still going to be turning in someone's garden ten years from now. That's how you build junk."
He looks out the small barn window where the morning light falls on the cleared pasture. "I'm not running down the young folks. But we forgot how to make things that last. A good piece of tin — if you shape it right, solder it right, paint it right — that'll outlive me, my kids, and probably their kids too. That was always my measuring stick. And that's exactly why my heart's heavy these days."
Russ's "Vermont Whirligig" out in the garden — even a light breeze sets the wheel spinning silently.
Why Most Garden Spinners Are Built for the Trash
Here's something most folks don't notice until it's too late: most garden whirligigs sold today are basically built to be thrown away. They look pretty enough on the rack at the big-box store, but put them outside and you'll see the truth by the second season. No real bearings — just a metal rod rubbing in a hole. The result? After the first heavy rain, that thing starts squeaking — that high, scratchy whine that ruins every windy afternoon on the porch.
"People let themselves get fooled by a little bit of bright paint," Russ says, dryly. "But take a closer look. Most of what you see at the home centers is thin stamped sheet metal that starts rusting the minute the dew hits it. The frogs are plastic — turns brittle in the sun, cracks the first hard winter. And the stake? Three-millimeter hollow tube. First nor'easter that comes through, the whole thing's down on its side."
For a man who spent half a century shaping copper roofs and gutters that had to last for generations, that's a personal insult to the trade. "That's not craft. That's a racket. You pay twelve bucks at the box store, throw the thing out after eight months, buy another one. Ten years later you've spent a hundred and fifty dollars on plastic trash. Buy one honest piece that lasts, and you're done for life."
Fifty Years of Tin — and the Whirligigs That Wouldn't Spin Right
Russ started his tinsmith apprenticeship in 1968, just outside St. Johnsbury. By 1985, he'd taken over a small tin shop in Craftsbury from his old master. For fifty years he made copper roofs, hand-formed gutters, weathervanes, and chimney flashing for old Vermont farms across the Northeast Kingdom. "My job was to shape tin and copper to last a hundred years out in the weather. There's a barn over in Glover with a copper gutter I put up in '91. It'll outlast me by half a century, easy."
In 2017, Russ retired — and at first didn't quite know what to do with himself. "You can't just stop being a tinsmith. The sound of the hammer on tin keeps ringing in your sleep." That summer, walking through his neighbors' gardens and past the tourist gift shops up in Stowe, he started noticing something that bothered him.
"You'd see one whirligig sitting there dead as a doornail in a stiff breeze, and another one ten feet away squealing away in the lightest puff of air. As a tinsmith, that drove me crazy. Why? What was the difference?"
The puzzle wouldn't let him alone. Russ went back to his shop and started experimenting. He shifted the pitch on the wheels by fractions of an inch. He tested sealed ball bearings against open ones. He worked out where the center of gravity had to sit for a wheel to start turning on a single breath of air. He brought everything he'd learned in fifty years of tinsmithing to bear on a small problem nobody else seemed to be solving. A whirligig, the way Russ figured it, is just a small turbine — and a turbine answers to physics, not to a coat of bright paint.
Then there was the question of what to put on top.
The result is the Vermont Whirligig — a pair of frogs in top hat and bonnet riding an old penny-farthing bicycle. By a long shot his bestseller. But over the years, Russ has built up a small repertoire of other designs too: a cat-and-rat duo on a vintage motorcycle, a praying mantis pair on a chopper, a hare on a tandem. Each one tested, balanced, and tuned the same way as the frogs — same triple-tinned soldering, same sealed bearings, same physics.
Russ's small repertoire — the Vermont Whirligig (frogs) is by far the bestseller, but the cat-and-rat, mantis, and hare designs all share the same engineering.
What Sets the Vermont Whirligig Apart from Everything Else
Russ works like a tinsmith — not a hobbyist. That's the difference between a piece that's still spinning three years from now and a plastic spinner that ends up in the trash after one winter.
Triple-tinned soldering. "That's my secret," Russ says. "In old-school tinsmithing, every joint gets tinned three times before you solder it together. The tin layer seals out moisture from the inside. Glued or just spot-welded joints — like the import junk uses — start rusting from the inside out, right where you can't see it. My joints last thirty years easy, because the water can't even get in."
Reclaimed American tin from old food cans. "The tin they put in food cans is first-rate stuff — galvanized, coated, properly milled. It's a crime to throw it out after one can of beans. I straighten it out, hammer it back into shape, and give it a second life. Every whirligig has its own little history baked in: one's got an old soup can in it, one's got a tomato can from a pasta plant in Buffalo."
Real sealed ball bearings — not a rod-in-a-hole. "I put two sealed ball bearings in every wheel. Costs me five extra bucks per piece and three minutes of work — but the wheel turns on a breath of air and never squeaks. You don't even hear it out there. That's the whole point: wind in your garden should bring peace, not noise."
Hand-painted enamel. "Enamel's the same paint they used to put on ship's funnels. UV-proof, salt-spray-proof, lasts for decades. Helen does the eyes — that's the finest work on the whole piece. Those tiny black dots in the frogs' eyes are what makes them look alive. I can't get it as good as she does."
Solid 5/16-inch steel ground stake. "Nothing wobbles. You drive it in once and forget about it. Even a Vermont nor'easter that knocks half the trees down won't tip it over."
Why Russ Can't Keep Working After Spring
"That's it. I'm done," Russ says, looking slowly around the workshop. For the 73-year-old, this old barn in Craftsbury was never just a workplace — it was his second home. It's where he found his second calling after the trade. "When I came in here in the morning and fired up the soldering iron, the world was right with me."
But the reality of modern Vermont has finally caught up to him. The old farmer who owned the property passed away last spring. His three kids — long since gone to Boston, Hartford, and out to California — sold the whole place to an out-of-state developer from down in Massachusetts. The plan is as simple as it is brutal: clear it all out and put up six "premium luxury vacation rentals with authentic Vermont charm." For Russ and the two other tenants on the property, there was no negotiating. The eviction notices were short, polite, and final.
Spring 2026 is the deadline — Russ has already started packing up his 40-year-old workshop.
No Room to Start Over
Russ has spent months looking for a new shop space within driving distance of Craftsbury. Nothing he can afford. "Anything that's still out there runs $1,200, $1,500 a month — that's more than I make on the whirligigs. And anything genuinely affordable is either already gone or being turned into another vacation rental." The 1,000-square-foot house he shares with Helen simply doesn't have room for a workbench, soldering setup, and paint fumes.
"Try hammering tin in a thin-walled house with neighbors twenty feet away," he says, dryly. "They wouldn't put up with it for two days. And the solder smoke and enamel fumes — that's not happening in the kitchen. Helen would throw me out, and rightly so."
Without a shop, his second calling is over.
Russ showing us images that customers from all over US sended him.
"I've Got Customers Whose Whirligigs Have Been Spinning for Ten Years"
Russ pulls an old binder off a shelf and flips it open. Inside: printed photos his customers have sent him over the years. Whirligigs in gardens from Maine to upstate New York to a backyard in Nova Scotia. "This one here," he points at a green frog pair against a backdrop of pine trees, "I made for a family up in Bar Harbor in 2014. Right on the coast where the salt spray usually eats everything in two summers. They sent me a photo last fall: still spinning like the day they got it. A little patina on the tin — but that just makes it look better."
He flips another page. "Bachmann family up in Lake Placid. They bought three of these back in 2017, one for each of their grandkids' gardens. Photo here shows the enamel's darkened just a touch over the years, but the mechanics are bulletproof. That's what matters most to me — that my work doesn't end up in the trash after two summers."
That kind of longevity isn't an accident. It's the result of real reclaimed tin, triple-tinned solder joints, sealed ball bearings, and marine-grade enamel. "I spend about three hours of real work on each whirligig. Plus drying time. Plus Helen's eye-painting. What you get at the end is a piece you'll have for twenty years."
What Vermont Whirligig Owners Are Saying
"I was honestly worried these frogs would look kitschy in our garden — but the opposite is true. The two of them have so much character that every visitor stops and laughs. And the wheel starts turning the second I open the patio door. Beautiful piece of work."
"I gave the Vermont Whirligig to my husband for his 60th birthday — he's a mechanical engineer, and he immediately noticed the sealed bearings. 'This isn't a toy, it's a piece of mechanics,' was the first thing he said. Three years in our garden now, no squeaking, no rust, no weak spots."
"We had one of those cheap whirligigs from the home center before — squeaked after six months and the paint flaked off. Russ's piece is a different world. You can tell right away a real craftsman made this, not a factory line."
"We've had the Vermont Whirligig out for five seasons now. It's been through two brutal Vermont winters and still looks fantastic. The frogs are a little patinated, but that fits the character perfectly. The fact that Russ has to close shop is a real shame."
The End of an Era in Craftsbury — and Your Last Chance
Soon Russ will turn the key in the workshop door for the last time. After 40 years at the bench, the tourist economy is winning over honest craft. "The heart and the hands are still willing — but I can't outbid a developer with a fat checkbook," he says quietly. Since his daughter Sarah (45) works as a graphic designer up in Burlington and isn't interested in taking over the trade, there's no one to carry the shop forward. What's left on his shelves is the final batch of Vermont Whirligigs — the last ones that will ever pass through his hands.
"It's Not About the Money — It's About Where They End Up"
To make sure these last pieces find good homes, Russ is releasing them at a significant closeout discount. What matters most to him is that his frogs end up out in the wind in real gardens, not in a storage container or worse. "I can't make heads or tails of this internet stuff. But my daughter Sarah handles all that for me. She told me, 'Dad, there's still plenty of folks out there who appreciate real craftsmanship — we just have to find them.'"
The Vermont Whirligig: What You Get
What sets Russ's whirligig apart:
- 100% Vermont tinsmith craft: Every whirligig is shaped, soldered, painted, and inspected by hand in Russ's workshop in Craftsbury. No mass production, no factory line — real craftsmanship from a master tinsmith.
- Triple-tinned soldering: Russ's tinsmith secret. Every joint is tinned three times before soldering — sealing out moisture and preventing rust from the inside out, exactly where the import junk fails first.
- Reclaimed American tin: Made from old food cans and salvaged bicycle parts — straightened, hammered into shape, and given a second life. Every whirligig carries its own piece of material history.
- Real sealed ball bearings: Two sealed bearings in every wheel mean the spinner turns silently on the lightest breeze. No squeaking, no friction — just smooth, quiet motion.
- Marine-grade enamel paint: UV-resistant, frost-proof, decades of color life. Helen hand-paints every frog's eyes — the finest detail on the whole piece.
- Solid 5/16-inch steel ground stake: Stands rock-solid even in a Vermont nor'easter. Drive it in once and forget about it.
- A statement against throwaway culture: While big-box garden spinners end up in the landfill after one season, the Vermont Whirligig is built to last for decades — an honest investment in real American craft.
- Strictly limited final run: Only the last pieces remain from Russ's workshop before the spring 2026 closure.
Where to Find the Original
The genuine Vermont Whirligig by Russell Holcomb is available exclusively through CraftFolk — an online marketplace specializing in authentic American handcraft. His daughter Sarah runs Russ's small shop section there, so he can focus all his time on the last pieces at the workbench.
Daughter Sarah (45) helps her father with the online side — making sure his life's work finds homes before the workshop closes.
Spring 2026: Workshop Closes for Good
"By then, I want every last whirligig to have found a real garden to call home. We don't have room for them in the house, and they're too good to scrap," Russ says, looking at his old workbench one more time.
Between the current closeout discount and the start of garden season, supplies are running low fast. This is the last chance to own a real piece of Vermont craft — and at the same time give a 73-year-old tinsmith a fitting end to his second calling.
Risk-Free Trial: 100% Satisfaction Guarantee
Russ and Sarah are confident you'll feel the quality difference the moment you open the box. That's why they're offering full peace of mind:
1. Stake your Vermont Whirligig in your garden and watch the wheel start turning silently on the first soft breeze.
2. Try the materials, the heavy-gauge tin, the sealed bearings, the hand-painted enamel for yourself.
3. If you're not 100% satisfied, just send it back — full refund, no questions asked.
"We made a road trip up to Craftsbury last summer and stopped in to meet Russ at his shop. My kids still talk about the smell of solder and enamel paint, and Russ explaining how he balances the wheel just right. The whirligig has been in our garden in Connecticut ever since. The fact that he's getting pushed out for vacation rentals is honestly heartbreaking — we just ordered two more to support what's left of his life's work."
"I'm an architect by trade, so I look at construction quality very carefully. What Russ is doing here is genuinely masterful. The solder joints are tinned perfectly, the seams are clean and folded properly, the paint is even. You don't see that level of craft anywhere these days. My whirligig has been on the patio for two years now — no weathering, turns on the lightest breeze."
"A genuinely charming piece of garden art. The two frogs in their top hat and bonnet have so much personality — my grandkids gave them names right away (Frederick and Frederica). Every time they come over they run straight to the garden to see if the two are 'pedaling.' Russ has really created something special."
"The ground stake is rock solid, the mechanics run like butter, the workmanship is flawless. We've had our Vermont Whirligig out for three full seasons now — survived two hard winters and one brutal summer and still looks like the day it arrived. Big thanks to CraftFolk for giving Russ a worthy send-off."
"Honestly thought a whirligig was a whirligig. But this is a different league. The tin is heavy-gauge, the paint is rich and deep, and the frogs almost look alive. My husband and I stand at the kitchen window over coffee just watching them turn. A small piece of joy in the garden every morning."
"When I read the story about Russ being evicted, I had to swallow hard. So much life's work — and at the end it's all about price per square foot. I ordered three whirligigs right away: one for us, two as gifts. It's the most honest gift you can give, and it's a small statement against what's happening to small craftsmen up here. Highest possible recommendation."