Anglin Snow

About Anglin Snow

Midwinter snow in Denver falls dry and weightless, the kind that squeaks underfoot at ten degrees and blows off a rooftop like smoke. Anglin Snow works the deep-night hours when it's coming down that way — headlights, streetlight halos, the old blocks near Capitol Hill gone silent and blue-white under it all. Powder is deceptive: it moves easily, but it drifts against every step and stoop and refills a cleared walk if the wind has anything to say. So the pass gets made, and then made again, and the ice underneath gets treated before the morning sun starts the melt-and-freeze cycle all over. Nothing announces the work except a clean path at dawn and a neighbor who never had to change plans.