Collinsville wakes on a bluff, and first light comes up over the American Bottom in one long low sheet before it ever reaches the yards on the hill. That is the hour this lawn care work begins — dew still heavy, the mower's first pass laying a dark line across pale grass. Every cut ends the way it should: edges drawn along the walk, clippings off the drive, the yard looking like someone paid attention. Summer arrives humid and heavy off the floodplain, and turf that gets a steady hand through it holds its color deep into September. First on the street in the morning, and the street shows it by noon.