Freeburg is small enough that a lawn route becomes a loop, and the loop becomes a habit. Two guys and a mower runs it — trailer down, mow, trim, blow the walks, load up, on to the next house, waving at whoever happens to be out on the porch. Oaks shade half the yards on these streets, so grass comes slow in some spots and fast in others, and the cut gets set to suit each one. Nothing here happens at scale; it happens a yard at a time, and it looks like it. Come fall the same loop turns into leaf work, right up until the lawns are bare and the season closes itself out.