First light in Blackshear arrives soft and low, and every lawn in town wears its dew for an hour before the heat takes it. That is the hour Blessed Groundskeeping likes best, mowers running while the mockingbirds are still sorting out their songs, clippings blown off the walk before anyone steps outside. Coastal-plain grass grows hard here from March into November, so keeping a yard even is a standing rhythm rather than a one-time job. Mowing, string trimming, crisp edging along the drive and a clean blow-down are the whole of it, done the same careful way each visit. The reward is the look of a place from the road: neat, even, unmistakably tended.