You know you are home when the catsup bottle comes into view over Route 159, standing there red and improbable above the treetops. The yards beneath it get the full year of attention: mowing, trimming and edging from the first warm week through the last, then plowing and salting once winter finally means it. Snow in this valley is unpredictable — three inches on a Tuesday, a sheet of ice on Friday — so a drive gets opened when it needs opening, not on a schedule invented back in October. Carrying the town's own name means the work is done where everybody can see it. Cut lines in summer, bare pavement in January, same town either way.