By late July the light over Westland goes long and gold, slipping through the sycamores along the Middle Rouge and out across a thousand back yards at once. Terryslawn works in that light — mowing in even passes, trimming close around the mailbox post and the chain-link, then walking the driveway with the edger until the line between grass and concrete is one clean seam. Maples throw their shade over lawns laid out when these streets were first cut from farm ground, and a yard here is a small public thing; the neighbors see it. Autumn turns the same route into leaf work, and April brings the first cut of the year, when the whole block smells of rain and clippings together. Then the year swings around and the attention goes to snow instead: plowing the drive, clearing the walks, spreading salt after a night of blowing white. Different tool, same idea — leave the place looking looked-after.