Fargo sits at the western door of the Okefenokee, where the last of the daylight goes gold over the flatwoods and the frogs start up all at once. Fargo Lawn Service works the cool end of those days, mowing, string-trimming around posts and mailboxes, and edging a drive back to its true line. Yards this far south grow fast and grow rough, so steady cutting is what keeps them civil. There is a real satisfaction in the final pass, when the engine shuts off and you can hear the swamp again over a lawn that finally looks tended. The work ends when the light does.