Chemung sits on the old section grid: a mile of straight road, a square corner, another mile, repeat to the horizon. In July that grid runs green, and Big Jim's Lawn Service is somewhere inside it with the deck down, cutting yards that open onto corn and giving each one a clean line where turf meets gravel. Come January the same roads go white and the same truck wears a plow, pushing driveways open and stacking the piles where they won't blind anybody backing out. There is a satisfaction to both halves of that year — the mown yard at six on a summer evening, the black drive waiting quiet before the school bus comes through. One outfit, two kinds of weather, the same square mile of township.