By seven on a June morning in Nevils the dew is already lifting, and the dirt roads carry that fine pale dust that settles over everything by noon. It is the right hour to work: cool enough to move, grass standing up straight, the sound of one mower carrying a long way across flat land. South Bulloch yards run wide — pines at the property line, a pond somewhere out back, a lot of ground between the house and the road. Cutting them well is mostly patience and a straight first pass, then the edges, then everything blown off the concrete before the heat wins. The finish holds all week, and driving by on Thursday to see it still sharp is its own small reward.