February in Maynard arrives sideways: wind off the Assabet, and the short streets above Main pitched steep enough that a storm turns them into a problem by breakfast. Emerald Acres works both halves of that calendar — plowing and shoveling a driveway back to pavement while it is still dark, salting the step so the mail carrier has somewhere to stand. Come June the same properties are green, and the mowing starts, hedges tightened, beds mulched, the ragged corners squared away. There is a satisfaction in the before-and-after that never wears out: a white hill made passable, a shaggy yard made trim. Maynard is a small town with a lot of angles, and both jobs come down to giving people back the ground under their feet.