Show what a maintenance visit includes and the landscape projects you take on. We write your pages around your services, with photos and an estimate request.
Ten to thirty minutes to answer. A preview in 48 hours once we have your answers and payment.
$40 a monthFive edit requests a month included.
A customer looking for weekly mowing needs different details from someone planning a new patio. Put each service’s scope and next step where they can find it. Your rates and service area replace the examples.
Explore Cumberland Green’s demo ↗
Cumberland Green’s is a written example. Yours starts with your business.
Your answers tell us what you maintain, what you build and where you work. We turn them into a website you can review before launch. The sample below shows the approach: explain the services, ask about access and help a customer request an estimate. We choose the pages and any calculator around your business and the prices you want to publish.
Explore the services, prices and request form.
Open the Cumberland Green Lawn & Landscape sample ›A sample business. Cumberland Green Lawn & Landscape is fictional. Its prices, reviews and job stories are examples. We build your site with your business details, photos and genuine customer reviews.
We build your website around the work you take on: regular lawn care, outdoor projects, or both. Customers can compare services, see where you work and send the details you need for a quote. If you want an estimator, we set it up with your rates and explain what still needs a site visit.
Tell us which qualifications you’d like customers to see. We can include certifications, licenses and insurance details you provide.
Your mowing schedule and season terms belong on the page. Tell us which towns you cover and how you price planting or sod, and we’ll use those rates in the estimator. Send me the questions ›
Your Console keeps customer messages and job details together. Try Cumberland Green’s sample below. The workflow tools draft texts for you to review, then send from your own phone.
The real console, with sample data.
We build your website with the Console and workflow tools included. We’ll help you set up the tools that fit your work.
Your website, Console and workflow tools. Writing, hosting and upkeep included.
Your first preview after your questionnaire and payment. Complete the launch checklist, then ask us to launch.
No exit fee. Your site stays up through the period you’ve paid for.
Your domain is registered in your name and billed at cost, about $11 a year.
The tools draft the message; you review it and tap to send on your phone. Texts use your carrier plan, with no per-message fee from Plainsmith.
The optional front desk answers calls you forward when you can’t pick up and prepares a text reply. We check forwarding on your number during setup. Its Twilio voice line costs about $1.15 a month plus about a cent a minute, billed to your own account. See provider costs.
Cancel from your account. Your website comes down and workflows stop at the end of the month or year you paid for.
You have 14 days to request a refund, starting when we send the finished website for review. We return your full website payment, including $400 if you paid annually. Domain registration is nonrefundable; you keep the domain.
Your Console stays open in read-only mode, free, so you can download your contacts, messages and appointments.
Your domain, words, photos and logo belong to you from the start. The website’s design and code cost $499 less your plan credit to buy.
Monthly: this month’s $40 comes off. Annual: we credit $400 divided by 12 for each unfinished month, including the month you’re in. Your account shows the exact price.
Your files and hosting setup arrive within seven days. You take over hosting, updates and renewals. After a buyout, hosting and workflow service finish with your current billing month. Read the ownership terms.
The arguments that win when the homeowner has two bids on the table, researched and written into your pages. Read them the way a homeowner will. The questionnaire is where they become yours.
Homeowners price a patio by the square foot. It prices by the path in. With eight feet of side-yard access a small machine moves the base in and the clay out, and a 500-square-foot patio on an eight-inch base is something like fifteen to twenty tons in and the same again out. Through a 34-inch gate with a forty-foot carry, every one of those tons goes by wheelbarrow. Same stone, same crew: around $28 to $32 a square foot with a machine, $40 to $45 by hand, plus three to five days. One measurement moves the number by a third or more, and no customer has ever volunteered it.
So the form on your site asks for the gate width, or a photo of the side yard, before it asks anything about budget — which is also the moment the customer wonders why you want that, and finds out. Then the second thing they forget: what is coming out. The old patio, the sod and the clay have to go somewhere, by the ton. A site that says both reads like the crew that has stood in the yard, and the range it gives back is one you can hold.
The demo is a Denver yard, and its watering paragraph is the one no national template can write. The city gets fourteen or fifteen inches of rain a year and a bluegrass lawn wants twenty-four to thirty, so every lawn is a plant from a wetter place kept alive on a schedule. The water provider sets that schedule: three days a week, nothing between ten in the morning and six at night, all summer, every summer. And Front Range clay takes about a quarter-inch an hour before it sheets, while a standard spray head throws six times that. A straight twenty-minute run waters the sidewalk.
Your site says what you do about it — three short cycles an hour apart, or rotary nozzles that put water down at a rate the ground can take — and it says the other thing nobody’s page says: here, winter is not the killer, winter dryness is. Anything planted in the last two seasons wants a drink once or twice a month from October to March, on a day above forty, and most of the plants that “died in the spring” died in February. Whatever your climate does instead, that paragraph is yours to write, and ours to put where a homeowner reads it: on the maintenance page, beside the price.
Where the demo lives, the state licenses no landscape contractor at all, so “licensed and insured” on a landscaper’s site means a city business license, or a credential worth naming, or nothing. The ones a customer can check: a pesticide applicator license, if anybody is putting weed control down for money, with its number beside the state’s public lookup; a certificate of insurance the agent sends to the customer directly, with their own name on it, rather than a PDF forwarded from a phone; and workers’ comp, because with an all-1099 crew the deep pocket when someone falls off a four-foot wall is the homeowner’s own policy. Your site names whichever of those you hold, with the lookup beside it, and says nothing you don’t. A customer can check it in a minute, and a competitor’s stock line can’t answer the question.
The proof that costs nothing to publish and cannot be faked is the middle of the job: the excavated subgrade, each compacted lift of base with a tape in the frame, the grid layers in a wall. Everybody shows the finished patio. Almost nobody shows what is under it. Three photographs labeled “what’s under a patio we build” do more for a careful buyer than any award logo, and the locate ticket number before anyone digs is a receipt that lives in a state system — a yes-or-no a bad contractor can’t pass.
We read what landscaping crews put on their own sites, what their customers say in reviews, and what a working landscaper told us unprompted. The questionnaire asks which of these belong on yours.
Weekly mowing is a subscription, so the page has to make thirty visits feel safe: the scope down to the object (line-trimming around every tree, fence post, mailbox and AC unit), the terms spelled out — no setup fee, a 30-day notice and nothing else to get out — and a price locked on the first visit and held for the season, wet June included.
A sprinkler blowout on October 12th is the one thing a stranger will buy from you on first contact: cheap, dated, and it puts you in the yard. Blowouts, startups, aeration and fall cleanups each get a page with a range and a date on it, and a banner that changes four times a year, which your five edit requests a month cover.
Budget bands with real dollars (“Under $10,000 — usually planting, irrigation and mulch rather than hardscape”), the lead time in plain words (call in April and you are being scheduled for July), the gate width on the form, and a “what happens after we leave” page: the first year’s watering, the first winter, the warranty and what voids it, the year-three photo. It turns the $12,000 budget asking for a $45,000 yard into a call that never costs you February.
Transformation is how customers describe the work in their own reviews, so the pairs are shot from the same spot, named by the problem (“the back third that stayed wet until July”) with the date and how long it took. The subgrade strip sits beside them.
The demo’s list: walls over four feet to an engineer, gas lines to a plumber, big trees to an arborist, the 120-volt side to an electrician. Whatever yours is, naming the partners costs nothing and turns the unqualified call into goodwill; nobody fakes admitting limits.
From your account, from your phone, in a sentence, and it lands on our phones the second you hit send. The two of us read every message that comes through your account; you meet us at the bottom of this page. We work through edit requests in the order they arrive. Most go up the same day. Five edit requests a month are included, and how much goes into each one is up to you — everything in a single message counts as one, so send them together. A sixth queues for next month, or $10 puts it up now.
Maybe there is no site yet, just the trailer and a Facebook page. Maybe there is one with somebody to email who never answers, or the somebody is you, because you built it, and every edit costs a Sunday night. Either way you get the same thing: somebody who answers. Send me the questions ›
Most of what a landscaping company loses is not lost on the website. It leaks between the phone ringing and the job being done. These are the ones that cost the most. Workflow tools come with your website plan, with no setup charge. Customers keep dialing the number on your trailer; what it misses forwards to the front desk, a separate voice line, charged by Twilio. See the phone costs. You own the number and every contact in it.
One tap marks the day out and readies the same message for every account on the run — Friday instead, same times, reply OK — for your taps. The run stays together, because letting six customers each pick a day turns one tight route into two half-empty ones, and the one who really cannot make Friday says so and gets his own slot.
You price it, they say they will think about it, and that is the last either of you mentions it. The quote chaser drafts the day 2, 7 and 14 nudges in your words, ready to send, and stops the second they reply.
The texts for last year’s book are written before your competitors have printed a flyer — prepay discount, deadline, same Thursday spot — and your taps send them, one account at a time. The demo’s board shows eleven still to hear from.
Explore the included workflow tools and check any optional provider charges. Try the tools. See provider costs. Send me the questions ›
Try Cumberland Green Lawn & Landscape’s example prices below. Your website uses the rates and minimum you choose.
The estimator uses your rates. We also explain common problems and how you handle them, using details you confirm. Send me the questions ›
You answer plain questions: what you cut and what you build, which towns your route runs through, what your terms are. We read every answer ourselves. Then we write the pages and build the site, and it publishes only when you have seen it and say publish. Half an hour now, and with the front desk on, the next patio call you would have missed pays for the year.
The “we” is Jason Walls and Tadar Puakpaibool. Jason came to software from four trades — drilling, roofing, cabinets, machining — and started Plainsmith from Golden. He is responsible for your website build and custom tools, and handles technical problems when you contact us. Tadar is the marketer: fifteen years of campaigns and launches for brands including Red Robin and Procter & Gamble, and what each page says, top to bottom, is his call. Here’s our story.