About James

The Man Behind the Sawdust

Well hello there, friend! James Thompson here, though if you're from around Burlington, you might know me as "that fella with the perpetual pencil behind his ear" or "Martha's husband with the wood obsession." Welcome to my little corner of the internet, where I ramble about woodworking almost as much as I do in person (just ask my grandkids – they've perfected the polite nod).

I've spent 53 years chasing that perfect cut, that ideal joint, and that elusive balance between what Martha calls "actual furniture" and what I call "workshop time well spent." At 65, I've got sawdust in places doctors wouldn't believe and calluses that tell more stories than I have time to share.

How It All Started

My love affair with wood began at age 12 when my grandfather placed a hand plane in my nervous fingers and helped me make a birdhouse that looked more like an architectural experiment gone wrong. That lopsided creation still hangs in my workshop as a reminder that everyone starts somewhere – usually somewhere wobbly.

"The difference between a beginner and a master," my grandfather used to say, "isn't that the master never makes mistakes. It's that the master knows how to fix 'em." I've spent my life proving the first part of that statement repeatedly.

From Classroom to Workshop

For 31 years, I had the privilege of teaching high school shop, where I learned that teenagers and power tools create an educational combination that'll keep you young, terrified, and extremely alert all at once.

Watching young people discover that they can create something with their hands – something that will outlast a cell phone battery – was the greatest reward of my teaching career.

These days, I run Thompson's Workshop from our converted barn that Martha generously allowed me to transform into what she calls "the place where perfectly good trees go to become half-finished projects." I've been proving her wrong (mostly) for the 15 years since retirement, crafting custom furniture that's found homes across New England.

What I Build

I specialize in Shaker-style furniture – pieces that celebrate the quiet elegance of wood without shouting for attention. There's something about the clean lines and honest joinery that speaks to my New Hampshire roots. As my daughter Sarah once put it, "Dad builds furniture that's like him – sturdy, unassuming, and surprisingly comfortable to be around."

My rocking chairs have become something of a local tradition. I've made one for each of my grandchildren, with the understanding that they'll have them long after I've hung up my apron for good. Martha says watching me measure a child for their personal rocking chair is like watching someone plan a surprise party – all focus and barely contained excitement.

Life In The Sanctuary

My workshop – affectionately dubbed "The Sanctuary" – is where you'll find me most days, with Sawdust the golden retriever faithfully sleeping on a bed of wood shavings nearby. He's the world's worst shop assistant but the best listener I've ever had. He's never once criticized my dovetails, which is more than I can say for my son Michael.

This converted barn has witnessed countless hours of concentration, not a few colorful words when things go wrong, and moments of pure joy when a joint comes together just right. It's where my grandkids learn to sand (though their attention spans are still in the developmental stage), and where neighbors stop by with coffee and "quick questions" that turn into hour-long visits.

Martha: The Saint Behind The Sawdust

No talk about my woodworking life would be complete without mentioning Martha, my wife of 42 years and the woman who has somehow tolerated wood shavings tracked through the house for four decades. When we met at that craft fair all those years ago, she bought a cutting board from me, pointed out three ways I could improve it, then somehow agreed to have dinner. I've been trying to impress her with my craftsmanship ever since.

"What Martha Says" could be its own book of woodworking wisdom. My favorite: "James, if you spent half as much time fixing the kitchen cabinet as you do building them for other people, we might have a door that closes properly." She was right, of course. She usually is.

Philosophy of Craft

In my years of working with wood, I've developed a simple philosophy: Take your time, respect the material, and remember that you're building more than furniture – you're building memories.

Life, like a good joint, gets stronger with pressure. The challenges we face – whether in the workshop or in daily living – shape us into more resilient, adaptable people. I've found that woodworking teaches patience in an impatient world, precision in chaotic times, and the value of creating something that will outlast us.

Come By Sometime

If you're ever in Burlington, my shop door is usually open (unless it's February – then it's firmly closed to keep the heat in, but knock anyway). I'm always happy to show folks around, talk shop, or just share a cup of coffee from my wooden mug that's survived longer than most modern marriages.

Fair warning though – ask me about the difference between quartersawn and plainsawn lumber at your own risk. Martha says I've put more people to sleep with that explanation than a strong dose of nighttime cold medicine.

Whether you're a fellow woodworker, someone looking for a custom piece, or just curious about what makes a 65-year-old man spend his retirement covered in sawdust, you're welcome here. As my grandfather would say, "Good craft deserves good company" – and I'd be honored to have yours.

James's Workshop Wisdom: Life's too short for cheap tools and quick joints. Take your time, do it right, and build something that tells your story long after you're gone.

James Thompson crafts custom Shaker-style furniture from his workshop in Burlington, Vermont. When not covered in sawdust, he can be found teaching his grandchildren questionable workshop dance moves, perfecting his dad jokes, or explaining to Martha why they absolutely need another wood clamp.