Autumn comes to west Columbus without ceremony. The heat lets go, the bermuda slows down, and the light runs in low and level over the fall-line rapids in the river. Buckeye Turf mows into that season — cutting, edging, running the trimmer along fence lines, clearing the drive so nothing tracks indoors. Turf is the entire subject here: one even height, clean stripes, a lawn that reads the same from the porch as it does from the street. Some yards are a canvas and some are only a Tuesday, and both get the same pass.