Sunrise on the Promenade, the island still mostly asleep, and the grass on the streets behind it wet with the kind of dew only a barrier island makes. Sea Isle lawns live on sand and salt air, which means cutting them takes care — mowing, trimming along bulkheads and fence lines, edging tight to the walk, and clearing every clipping off the pale concrete. In winter the island empties and the storms come sideways, so the same properties get plowed, shoveled and salted, walks opened for whoever is here to use them. There's something plain and good about a small island yard trimmed all the way to its corners. It's a short season on the beach and a long one for the grass, and both get the same attention.