January light on the mesa is thin and bright, the grass gone tan, the Sandias standing sharp and snow-lined across the valley to the east. A yard in Rio Rancho Estates still keeps a list in that month — brush cut back, beds cleared, the last of the fall litter raked out of the rock. Then April turns the wind loose, July's rain makes everything race, October drops leaves into the gravel, and the mowing, trimming and weeding shift to meet whatever the calendar just handed over. The point of a green year is that no month gets skipped and nothing has to be rescued later. Pull into the drive and the edges are held, the beds are clean, the clippings are already gone.