Two rivers meet at Chamita — the Chama folding quietly into the Rio Grande — and the cottonwoods that follow that seam stay green long after the mesas have gone to tan. AP.Landscaping works this valley on its own clock, mowing in the cool of the morning while ditch water is still moving under the alfalfa. Yards here run in narrow strips between adobe walls and field edges, so the string trimmer finishes what the mower cannot reach and the walkways come out with a straight, deliberate line. Clippings leave with the truck, and the lawn is left looking intentional against all that open country. By evening, when the light drops behind the mesa and the whole valley goes gold, those lines are still readable from the road.