An Eye to the Iconic

Crossing the South Capitol Street Bridge and climbing the hills of Southeast Washington is like reaching the mountains in a 10-minute drive.

"I don't even have to go down Skyline Drive, look at that!" Juanita Britton said as she swept an arm toward the tree-lined park that fronts her home high on a hill in the Congress Heights neighborhood. It's so close to her doorstep that it feels like an extension of her front lawn. Leaves flutter against the cloudless blue sky. Set like a mirage in a perfect oval cleft between the trees, the Washington Monument rockets toward heaven.

"My friends say, 'Did you cut a hole through the trees to view the Monument?' "

Part of the joy of Britton's view is the surprise, the wonder that such a vision exists in so unexpected a place. In Washington we're accustomed to great views, but they're usually encountered on the commute to work or on a Sunday drive. At home, most of us might as well be in Wichita, overlooking a patch of garden or the solid brick wall of the mini-mansion next door.

Meanwhile, a lucky few live with constant reminders that they're not in Kansas anymore.

Downtown

Jack and Angela Mahoney's 15th-floor apartment hovering over Pennsylvania Avenue in downtown Washington boasts perhaps the most splendid ornament in the city: Every window of their rambling condominium offers a stellar view of the Capitol.

"It's beautiful, that's why we live here," said Angela Mahoney, an international trade consultant whose cap of glossy black hair sharply contrasts with her sleek white-on-white furniture and plush white rugs.

Doors lead from the living room, the dining room and the den to a narrow terrace where perhaps 50 guests could stand shoulder to shoulder toasting the reflected sunset on the frosted dome.

Look left and there's the National Building Museum, red bricks ablaze. Look right, there's the knife edge of the National Gallery's East Building.

The Mahoneys are generous with their more view-challenged friends. "We entertain frequently," she said.

And the reviews? "Oh, it's breathtaking."

Just beneath the terrace, construction goes on at the Newseum. It's not quiet here at midday. The car horns and street sounds blend with the jackhammers in a constant city din. The cranes seem as numerous as the postcard buildings, like giant red and yellow and blue Tinkertoy dinosaurs observing the skyline.