Big Island Pond throws a sheet of light up through the pines on Atkinson's south edge, and the lawns that climb away from it are the ones we mow. Summer here is long shade and short sun, so an even cut takes reading a yard rather than racing it. We take pride in the line where grass meets pavement — the one you only notice when it's right. Winter turns those same driveways into a different problem entirely, and we come through with the plow while the pond is still a black plate under the stars. Atkinson's lawns and Atkinson's storms, handled by the same hands.