The Tioga River slides straight through the middle of Belmont past the old brick mill, and the village lawns step down toward it in small tidy terraces. We start early there, while the dew still holds the grass down, and work outward from the village along the route. Mowing, trimming, and the cleanups at either end of the year are the bones of it — nothing showy, just a yard that looks tended every time you pull in. Summer in Belmont is short and bright and already full of things to do, and a lawn shouldn't be one of them. We'd rather it be ours.