Bussaco Windmill

Having finally painted my first British Napoleonic units ever, it seemed time to finish off a terrain item that I have had on hand for several years, namely the "Bussaco Windmill" from Grand manner:
http://www.grandmanner.co.uk/Windmill_Bussaco--product--112.html

The battle of Bussaco was fought  on September 27,  1810. Viscount Wellington adopted a very strong defensive position centered on a steep ridge line. The battlefield featured a walled convent, and several windmills. I have painted mine in a fashion similar to that shown on the Grand Manner website, and I am pretty pleased with how it came out. It should also fit in nicely with my other Spanish buildings (by Hovels).

I have rigged the sails in the same simple fashion shown on the GM site, rather than the more complicated authentic fashion depicted later. The sails, which look  white here, are actually a decidedly tan "parchment" color on the actual model. 

I used contrasting greyish stone for the door frame, reminiscent of the style I used on my Hovels Spanish church. 

The top view shows the tiled roof better. The base was enhanced with flocking and some pale "tufts". 

A Portuguese stamp with one of the Bussaco windmills depicted thereupon.  Similar windmills in Spain and Portugal date back to the 1500's and earlier, and are the sort that Miguel Cervantes Don Quixote would have famously tilted at.

Which leaves us ending with my favorite Gordon Lightfoot song, "Don Quixote". 

Through the woodland, through the valley
Comes a horseman wild and free
Tilting at the windmills passing
Who can the brave young horseman be
He is wild but he is mellow
He is strong but he is weak
He is cruel but he is gentle
He is wise but he is meek
Reaching for his saddlebag
He takes a battered book into his hand
Standing like a prophet bold
He shouts across the ocean to the shore
Till he can shout no more

I have come o'er moor and mountain
Like the hawk upon the wing
I was once a shining knight
Who was the guardian of a king
I have searched the whole world over
Looking for a place to sleep
I have seen the strong survive
And I have seen the lean grown weak

See the children of the earth
Who wake to find the table bare
See the gentry in the country
Riding off to take the air

Reaching for his saddlebag
He takes a rusty sword into his hand
Then striking up a knightly pose
He shouts across the ocean to the shore
Till he can shout no more

See the jailor with his key
Who locks away all trace of sin
See the judge upon the bench
Who tries the case as best he can
See the wise and wicked ones
Who feed upon life's sacred fire
See the soldier with his gun
Who must be dead to be admired

See the man who tips the needle
See the man who buys and sells
See the man who puts the collar
On the ones who dare not tell
See the drunkard in the tavern
Stemming gold to make ends meet
See the youth in ghetto black
Condemned to life upon the street

Reaching for his saddlebag
He takes a tarnished cross into his hand
Then standing like a preacher now
He shouts across the ocean to the shore
Then in a blaze of tangled hooves
He gallops off across the dusty plain
In vain to search again
Where no one will hear

Through the woodland, through the valley
Comes a horseman wild and free
Tilting at the windmills passing
Who can the brave young horseman be
He is wild but he is mellow
He is strong but he is weak
He is cruel but he is gentle
He is wise but he is meek