Highway 45 slips out of Fayetteville and slows down when it reaches Goshen, where the White River bottoms hold their fog until the sun finally climbs the ridge. Cornerstone Landscaping works that hour, wheeling the mower down while the grass is still silver, then cutting a clean line along the drives and walks and blowing the clippings back off the concrete. Yards here sit between pasture and Ozark timber, so the boundary between kept and wild is the whole story, and it is a line worth drawing straight. Beds get shaped, borders get held, and the trimmer reaches the corners no deck will ever fit. By the time the fog lifts off the river, the place looks like somebody loves it.