On the ridges outside Springdale, November fog fills the hollows first and leaves the high ground last, and an old barn will sit above it all morning like it is floating. The Grey Barn works that edge of town — bigger lots, pasture running right up to the mowed line, fence rows that need trimming as much as the yard does. Mowing on its regular day, trimming along posts and outbuildings, edging what concrete there is, clearing the drive once the leaves come down. Country places forgive a lot of things but not a ragged border; where kept grass meets open field is the line that makes a whole property look tended. Getting that line right, every visit, is the pleasure of it.