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Graham North's Tin Whirligigs Bring Handcrafted Motion to the Garden

Graham North's whimsical garden whirligigs give a passing breeze something to do. The current Home of Craft listing centers on a 56-inch tin spinner, shaped, soldered, painted, and inspected by hand, with hand-painted riders and a solid steel stake. Instead of a rod rubbing in a hole, each wheel turns on two sealed ball bearings so it can roll freely and quietly once the air begins to move. Choose frogs on a penny-farthing, a cat and mouse on a motorcycle, or praying mantises on a chopper, then put a small piece of motion where you can see it from the kitchen window.

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 Graham's hands twice.

On the bench: Graham'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. Graham 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."

Graham'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," Graham 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

Graham 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, Graham 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. Graham 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 Graham 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, Graham 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.

The cat-and-mouse motorcycle design uses the same wind-driven wheel and garden stake.

What Sets the Vermont Whirligig Apart from Everything Else

Graham 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," Graham 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 Graham Can't Keep Working After Spring

"That's it. I'm done," Graham 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 Graham 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 — Graham has already started packing up his 40-year-old workshop.

No Room to Start Over

Graham 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.

Graham showing us images that customers from all over US sended him.

"I've Got Customers Whose Whirligigs Have Been Spinning for Ten Years"

Graham 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

A Garden Piece With Real Motion

The appeal of a garden whirligig is simple: it gives an ordinary flower bed a little movement and personality. The current Home of Craft listing offers the same core build across three rider designs — hand-shaped tin, a solid steel stake, and two sealed ball bearings in every wheel. Choose the scene that suits the garden, then let a breeze do the rest.

Choose the Design That Fits Your Garden

The current product page lists three designs at the same single-spinner price: Frogs on a Penny-Farthing, Cat & Mouse on a Motorcycle, and Praying Mantis on a Chopper. Each uses the same hand-shaped and hand-painted tin construction, sealed bearings, and included steel stake. Visit the product page for current design selection, pricing, and multi-spinner options.

The Vermont Whirligig: What You Get

Where to Find the Original

The Tin Whirligig Garden Wind Spinner with Sealed Bearings by Graham North is available through Home of Craft. The current listing presents the three rider designs along with specifications, current pricing, and the available multi-spinner options.

Daughter Sarah (45) helps her father with the online side — making sure his life's work finds homes before the workshop closes.

Made for the Garden, with Straightforward Care

At 56 inches high with its stake, this is a garden object meant to be seen from across a bed or through a kitchen window. The current care guidance is simple: wipe it occasionally with a damp cloth and allow the tin's outdoor patina to develop naturally over the seasons.

The wheel is balanced by hand, and its two sealed bearings are intended to keep it rolling freely when a light breeze comes through. The rider scene supplies the whimsy; the steel stake and tin body provide the garden-ready structure.

Risk-Free Trial: 100% Satisfaction Guarantee

Home of Craft's current product page provides the following return information for the tin whirligig:

A return may be requested within 30 days of delivery for an unused item in its original packaging. The current product page says return shipping is paid by the customer unless the item arrived damaged or incorrect; see the product page and Home of Craft policies for the current terms.