North of Buena Vista the Marion County hills roll in red clay and pasture, and the little branches up here gather into the Kinchafoonee before the creek ever gets its name on a map. Summer evenings come slow: hay down in the fields, the heat easing around seven, whip-poor-wills starting up along the pine edge. Yards in this country are big and open, and mowing one well means reading the ground — the swales that stay soft, the ridge that dries first, the shade line under a pecan. Get it right and the whole place looks kept: grass even from the road to the barn lot, fence rows trimmed, the drive swept clean. That is a good thing to leave behind at the end of a long day.