Well, not gears, exactly. What I’m talking about is a shift in seasons. I live in New England. That’s in the northeastern part of the United States, for those of you who might not know. ‘New England’ is the name we gave the states of Connecticut, Massachusetts, Maine, New Hampshire and Vermont, in honor of the English who settled this area in the seventeenth century. My state, Connecticut, is more ‘New England’ in feel than the others, especially our part of it. Whenever I’m in England, especially heading north, I see the strong resemblance. Our roads are narrow and twisting; we have lots of beautiful stone walls; many towns, counties and rivers bear English place-names. We’re also famous for our weather. Coldly beautiful winters. Blossom-infused springs. Hot, colorful summers. Absolutely gorgeous autumns. That’s our most famous season and deservedly so. We have lots of forests and woods in New England. During the autumn, our maples, oaks and hickories, all our hardwood trees, put on the most glorious display imaginable. It’s happening right now. As I write this. I look out the door of my office and see the colors of fall. Flaming reds, brilliant golds, deep purples, hot orange, rich…