Up on the Summerville hill the houses are old and the yards have been loved a long while by somebody. Autumn is the season that shows it: leaves down from the water oaks, the light gone thin, the grass easing toward its rest. The work is mowing while there is still growth, trimming close to the walks and fence lines, edging where the season has blurred things, and clearing the leaves that drift into corners. Nothing dramatic — just steady care given to ground other people cared for first. A lawn tended kindly through fall comes back sooner in spring, and it is nice to be part of that.