Come September the section roads around Mount Pulaski fill with combine dust and the horizon goes gold for miles. Yards still need cutting through all of it. Top Class Grass keeps the mowers running while the countryside is busy bringing the crop in — trimming fence lines, cutting around mailboxes and light poles, blowing the clippings off the drive so nothing tracks inside. There is real pleasure in the last pass of the day, when a lawn suddenly looks like something somebody meant. In a town this size a kept yard is a form of good manners, and that suits this crew fine.