On a June evening in Carbondale the light lands long across Sopris Park, and half the town seems to be walking somewhere with a folding chair. Blooming Gardens keeps yards ready for that hour — grass mowed to an even nap, trimmed tight along fence lines, edges cut so a lawn looks like somebody meant it. Then the year turns, and the same streets ask for different work: driveways opened, front walks scraped down to concrete, sand or salt laid where the shade holds ice long past noon. There is a plain joy in a path you can cross in slippers to fetch the mail in January. Two halves of one calendar, both of them tended.