Out past Middletown the land lets go of its hills and the black dirt runs flat toward the horizon — that is New Hampton, and that is where this work gets done. Summer here is loud with growing things, and a lawn mowed and edged against all that green reads like a sentence finished properly. Winter arrives across open ground with nothing to slow it, drifting a driveway shut between one dark hour and the next. Landscape Impressions takes both halves of that year: mowing, trimming and lawn upkeep while the fields are high, plowing and clearing once the wind has packed the drive hard. The reward is small and specific — someone toward Slate Hill or Goshen stepping out to a path already open, with no story to tell about it.