Come July the thunderheads build over the Sandias and slide west toward Angustura, and everything green in the valley wakes at once. A week of that rain and the grass is ankle-deep, the weeds are bolder than the grass, and a yard that looked fine on Sunday has gotten away from its owner by Friday. This is the season the work is built for: cutting growth back down to something even, trimming along fences and ditch banks, hauling the cuttings off. Between storms the air smells of wet dust and cottonwood, and a freshly mowed yard holds that smell for hours. Getting a place back under control in a single afternoon is the good part of the job.