September afternoons in the South Capitol blocks come with thunderheads stacked over the Sangre de Cristos, twenty hard minutes of rain, and then a rinsed sky that makes the whole neighborhood smell of wet piñon and cool dust. Dom's handyman service handles the yard work in those tidy grid streets near the Roundhouse — mowing, string trimming along fences and sidewalks, pulling the weeds the rain has just made easy to pull, and taking the clippings away. Rain here is an opportunity rather than a nuisance: the ground softens, the grass is honest about where it is thin, and an hour of it changes everything. Small lots, straight lines, one height throughout, nothing left leaning. The porch light comes on and the place looks squared away.