Off Ontario Beach the wind crosses open water with nothing to slow it, and by the time it reaches the streets it is carrying snow sideways. Barefoot Lawn and snow works those nights — plowing driveways and lots, shoveling steps and walkways, spreading salt where the wind has polished a path to glass. In Rochester a storm is not measured by the depth on the ruler; it is measured by whether the car gets out at six in the morning. That is the whole ambition: beat the alarm clock, leave clear pavement, be gone before the coffee is poured. Come back and do it again when the lake decides to send another band inland.