Rockingham sits in the flatwoods of south Georgia, sandy underfoot, where the pines go up straight and the blueberry rows run off toward Alma. Grass grows long and hard in that heat, and a yard can get away from a person in ten days. This is the work that keeps it in hand: mowing on the week, trimmed lines around every post and stepping stone, edges cut sharp along the curb, and the clippings moved off before anyone tracks them indoors. Late in the day heat lightning flickers somewhere over the timber and the mowed lawn cools and darkens, striped and even. Come fall, leaves and pine straw get raked back where they belong.