I drove the spouse to Denver International this morning at a fairly unholy hour. The glorious thing about unholy hours, though, is that they are the most beautiful. We saw the sun rise over the prairie (far to the north, as it's still not that far from the solstice, which made it nice--the sun wasn't in my eyes as I drove). Too bad the mountains were behind us, so I couldn't really check out the morning light on them. By the time I turned around, the sun had been up for over half an hour and the light had lost its magic.
A dozen or so years ago, they built the new Denver airport a gazillion miles out from town, far out on the prairie. In part, Nis was to keep the aircraft noise away from the residential neighborhoods. The inevitable is gradually happening, though. It used to be that you didn't see a thing after leaving I-70 all the way out the ten miles to the airport. Now, housing developments line the first few miles.
Eventually, no doubt, people will be complaining about the noise of the airport.
I do love the first sight of DIA as you approach. The funky faux-teepee roof (or is it the Rocky Mountains? I think it's meant to be both) ought to be dated and tacky, and maybe it is, but it still works for me. At least it's not just another industrial building. I'll take my beauty where I find it.
Now, if only I could find the beauty in the stubbornly plugged toilet that waited for me back home!