The first real storm usually comes down the river corridor on a northwest wind, and by dark the streets of Dunleith are one unmarked sheet of white. Mow- n -Snow answers it. Driveways plowed open, sidewalks and steps shoveled and scraped down to the concrete, salt laid where ice would otherwise set up hard overnight. A river town built on a hill has no forgiving grades, so a drive gets cleared to the pavement rather than skimmed and called done. There is a particular satisfaction in the sound of a blade finding bare concrete at five in the morning while the rest of the block is still dark — by the time the truck pulls away, the day is possible again.