Snow under a parking-lot light in Hudsonville is not white; it is orange, and it is moving sideways. High-Definition Landscape works those hours, plowing lots and drives, stacking piles where they will not blind a turn, salting the walks so that the first people in the morning never once think about the pavement under them. The pride is all in the edges — a lot pushed out to its true corners, a windrow carried off instead of left across the neighbor's approach, blacktop showing dark and bare by dawn. Storms arrive here in bands with clear sky between them, which means the same lot can want three passes before sunrise. They make all three, and the last one is as square as the first.