The ground around Leslie is glacier-made — low and damp in the hollows, quick to hold frost where Huntoon Creek slides through town. On a June morning the mowers go out into that heavy green, cutting a lawn back into shape and running the trimmer around every post and downspout until the yard reads tidy from the street. There is real satisfaction in the last pass, when the pattern closes and the clippings are blown off the walk. By January the work turns to steel and low grey light: plowing a drive down to a clean surface, opening the paths a house actually uses. Same properties, different season, the same care taken with the finish.