By the middle of May the older blocks of Williamstown are all shade and pollen, the oaks leafed out over streets that were a crossroads long before they were a neighborhood. Lawn Hall keeps those yards honest through the growing season — mowing on a set day, string trimming around porch piers and the stump nobody ever pulled, edges cut back off the walk so the concrete shows its full width again. Where the canopy thins, the turf runs hot and thin with it, so the height comes up and the passes slow down. Come November the work turns to leaves, hauled off the grass before the first hard rain glues them flat. It is plain work, and it reads from the street: a lawn that looks after itself on a Tuesday, not just before a party.