West of the Arkansas River, Tulsa turns hilly and quiet — sandstone ridges around Turkey Mountain, sandbars flashing below the old Route 66 bridge, neighborhoods stepping up the slope. Cazador Services mows there in the early hours, before July hands the afternoon over to the heat. Every yard gets its border cut in, the string trimmer run along the fence and the mailbox post, and the clippings swept off the sidewalk. Grass on a Tulsa hillside grows uneven, so the pass is planned rather than guessed. What is left holds its shape all week, curb to back gate.