On a January morning before sunrise, fresh snow under a streetlight goes almost blue, and the only marks on the whole street are the ones the plow left. Winter here is close-quarters work: short driveways, alley aprons, walks that run to the corner, salt spread where the day's melt would otherwise glaze over again by dusk. Come April those same routes turn green, with weekly mowing, trimming and edging, mulch and beds in spring, and leaves gathered up when the maples finish in the fall. Handling both halves for the same streets means knowing where drifts pile against a particular garage and where the shade keeps the grass thin. An address gets looked after all the way around the calendar, not half of it.