The Huron River takes its time crossing this township, looping back on itself through the low green ground near Willow Metropark before it ever gets around to Lake Erie. The lawns out here follow that same easy grade, and mowing them well means reading the wet spots, holding the lines straight, and finishing the edges so a driveway looks drawn rather than poured. From April on that is mowing, trimming and edging on a steady rhythm; at the ends of the season it is hauling off leaves until the turf can breathe again. Then January arrives and the work turns to plowing, shoveling the walks, and putting salt down where the shade keeps ice honest. A drive that is black and clear at six in the morning, with the field across the road still untouched white, is its own quiet kind of accomplishment.