New Haven sits on the flat Macomb ground where the farm sections run out toward Anchor Bay, and there is nothing between here and the water to slow the wind. Summer arrives in a hurry on ground like that; the grass climbs fast and wants cutting on a real schedule, not a whim. We mow it down even, cut the edges square against walks and drives, and take the trimmings with us when we go. Trees and shrubs get shaped back off the roofline and the porch light so a house sits open to the street again. When the maples let go in October, the leaves come off the turf before the wet weather presses them flat into it.