Three in the morning in Barrington is a particular kind of quiet — wind coming down off the open ground northwest of town, the streetlights on Northwest Highway ringed in ice, everything holding still. That is the hour Aaron's Snow Plow Services is already awake, headlights swinging up the long lanes and gravel drives that run back from the road toward Barrington Hills. Snow arrives here on fast, dry clipper winds, and it drifts across bare fields quicker than it falls. The work is pushing it back to the edges, cutting walkways down to the surface, and putting salt where north-facing shade keeps ice honest all day. By the time the first Metra train pulls out of the station, the driveways are dark pavement again and the day can simply begin. Nobody sees the truck; everybody sees the result.