Out toward Deer Creek Canyon the ground turns stony and the yards climb, and by two on a July afternoon the thunderheads are already building over the foothills. Solid Rock Landscape works that seam where Littleton runs up against the mountains, mowing and edging and trimming on slopes and around outcrops that no straight line was ever drawn for. Landscape upkeep in this country means reading the ground first — where the turf thins, where the rock comes through, where a bed needs clearing before it disappears. Done well, a hillside yard looks intentional rather than merely survived, with the grass level and the edges honest all the way to the stone. Then the rain comes down hard for twenty minutes, the air smells like wet dust and pine, and everything green looks twice as green.