Living in northern California now, I’ve got a weird relationship to the seasons changing. Mostly because, well, they don’t really. I think I’ll always feel wistful when they’re changing in other places. In May, I’m ready for swimsuit season. In August, I’m pretty sure I’ll be eighty years old and still feel the urge for a Target visit with my mom to pick up new pens, pencils, folders, and notebooks for the coming school year. Who’s with me?! Whenever I…