By December the Eight Mile Brook side of town runs dark and loud under bare trees, and the first plowable storm usually shows up overnight, quietly, while Route 188 is empty. The work then is driveways opened before the commute, walks cleared down to the surface, salt and sand where the grade wants to throw a car sideways. Come April the same roads get driven for a different reason: mowing, trimming, edging, and the clearing that gets a yard out from under a winter's worth of leaf litter and grit. Two trades, one set of properties, and the pleasure is in knowing each one — where the culvert sits, which slope dries last, which turn needs the blade angled the other way. Oxford rewards that kind of memory, and the properties show it.