Fog comes up off Barnegat Bay most summer mornings and lays a second sky over Forked River, so the grass here is already wet before anyone touches it. Coastal Mist Irrigation likes those gray hours — the first pass of the mower drawing a dark stripe through all that silver. Lawns sitting a few feet above the tideline grow in loose sandy ground, and they ask for steady mowing, edges cut true along the walk, beds turned and mulched before July leans on them. By the time the haze lifts around ten, the yard is standing squared away with every line running the same direction. It is a small thing, and it is the whole point.