Snow comes to Springfield down the river. The valley funnels it, and by midnight the Connecticut is a dark seam between two white banks. Tim's Turf Property Maintenance keeps the hours that storms keep — three in the morning, headlights on Boston Road, the blade dropping at the head of a driveway in Indian Orchard while the mill blocks are still asleep. Plowing, shoveling the walks by hand, salting the steps and the slick apron by the mailbox: it is all one job, done so a car can back out at six and nobody has to think about it. The satisfaction is in the last pass — pavement dark and clean, the piles set back where they belong, the walkway a straight cut through the drift. Driveways and lots across the city get that same run, storm after storm, until the curb banks finally give out in March.