By midnight on a storm night the wide lots off Route 38 have gone quiet and blue-white, sign light bouncing back off powder nobody has touched. That is the hour Blademasters Landscape Management works — while the nor'easter is still coming up the coast and the snow is still stacking. Plow, backdrag, spread, circle back; the storm keeps writing over the pavement and the answer is simply to keep going until it stops. Cherry Hill wakes to entrances that open, aprons that are down to blacktop, walkways salted before anybody's boots find them. It is unglamorous, cold, three-in-the-morning work, and there is genuine pride in a lot that looks like the storm skipped it.