Capitol Hill snow is its own problem: brick walks, tight lots, cars parked bumper to bumper, and a city clock running on how long a sidewalk may stay uncleared. Snow removal takes those blocks — the walks in front of the old brick fourplexes, the shared steps, the strip between tree lawn and curb where the plow leaves its ridge. Ice melt goes down along the north faces of the buildings, the ones the mile-high sun never fully reaches in January. Most of the work happens overnight, so the neighborhood opens its doors onto a path already cut. Snow ends up where snow belongs, and nobody has to think about it.