The name gets a smile, and then the yard gets cut, which is the part that lasts. My momma works the streets and canal lanes of Ira, mowing on a schedule, trimming close to porches, mailboxes and posts, and clearing the drive of clippings before pulling out. Summer here comes with lake humidity that sends grass shooting up between storms, and it turns a skipped week into a hayfield in a hurry. When the first hard blow off the bay arrives in autumn, the leaves let go together and the cleanup takes them down to green again. The rule is simple: show up, cut it even, leave it tidy.