By one o'clock in July the thunderheads are already stacking white over the range west of Security, and everyone on the ground is racing the same afternoon. We come to you — mowing, string trimming and edging on the move, working a yard start to finish and getting the equipment loaded before the first fat drops hit the sidewalk. Being mobile suits this stretch of the front range, where a storm can soak one street and skip the next entirely. When the rain does come through, the grass jumps, and we are back around before it turns shaggy. What we hand back is straightforward: an even cut, clean borders and a yard that smells like cut grass and wet pavement.