From the higher streets in Norwood you can pick out the Blue Hills sitting low and dark on the horizon, and on a winter morning they surface out of the snow-light first. Dawn is when the plowing happens — driveways opened up, walks shoveled down to bare pavement, salt laid where the ice likes to form. In the green months the same routes become mowing, edging and trimming, with cleanups bracketing either end of the season. The satisfaction is in the finish: a stripe that runs true, a driveway with square corners and nothing left in the apron. Norwood properties, tended close.