By September the light goes gold around five, and the goldenrod on the vacant lots takes it personally. Carmichael cuts Calumet lawns through those long slanting evenings — cutting, trimming, running an edge so the stripes lie straight enough to read from the porch. Grass mowed late in the season carries a particular smell, cooler and greener than August ever manages. When the leaves come here they come nearly all at once, and clearing them is the last real chore of the year. It is unhurried work, and that shows in the finish.