The first real storm of the year usually comes over the divide at night, and by two in the morning Silverthorne is under six new inches with more falling sideways. Plow Pals is out in it — driveways cut open, aprons pushed back, walkways and lots cleared while the town is still asleep. There is a specific pleasure in the blue light just before dawn, when the plow has already been through, the pavement is dark and wet, and nobody has had to think about it. From October into May the phone answers to the sky and the route runs on whatever schedule the weather decides. Snow is the entire job here, and it is worth finishing before the coffee is on.