Saturday mornings in Kerrytown smell like basil and wet pavement, and a block over the lawns are waking up too. Ann Arbor Gardens keeps the grass in these old, tree-shaded yards — mowing to a height that will survive a Michigan July, trimming close around brick borders and porch steps, clearing away the season's litter of catkins and maple keys. The city's canopy makes lawn work a patient art: sun moves across a yard here in shifting coins, and the ground has to be read before it is cut. Autumn brings the great oak drop, and the crew comes back for it week after week until the branches are honestly empty. What's left each time is a yard that looks composed rather than merely shortened.