The back roads out of Bucksport run past blueberry ground and old orchards, and in August the whole stretch smells like warm hay. Yards along there are big and sun-struck, and they need a mowing pattern that keeps the turf standing instead of scalping it. Steady cutting, trimming around the sheds and stone piles, edging where the lawn meets the gravel, clippings cleared so nothing burns brown. Spring begins by clearing off whatever winter pressed into the turf, and autumn ends with the leaves hauled away. Bucksport and the farm-road towns to the east.