Winter arrives in Orange over the open plateau by the airfield, coming straight down out of the north with nothing to slow it, and by four in the morning the driveways have vanished under it. Clean Out King's is out in that hour with the plow lights swinging, clearing a path to the road before anyone downstairs has found their boots. Come May the same routes turn green and the work changes shape: mowing, trimming, hauling off the winter's wreckage of branches and sand. There is a plain pride in both ends of the year — a driveway opened before dawn, a yard put back in order by suppertime. The wind here does what it likes; the answer is simply showing up again.