First light along the Sulphur Gulch Trail lays dew across every open lawn in Parker, and for about an hour a mower writes on it — pale stripes that hold until the sun burns them off. Ghostprint chases that hour. The work is mowing, trimming, and crisp edge lines along walks and beds, plus the seasonal cleanups that keep a yard from carrying last year forward. The name is the mark left behind: the pattern in the grass, the clean break at the curb, the yard that looks tended without anyone having watched it happen. Come back at noon and the print has faded — but the lawn under it has not.