My fall tree

In France, Argenteuil, I had a similar tree that I called "my fall tree" before my window. It did signal fall, offered me beautiful fall colors, year after year. 

Till one day, my grand-son, who must have been 7 by the time, not happy with me or with life, did kill it a spring time. When I come to London, it just tried to open again. 

What was my joy, to discover the same tree, not far from my block, towards the beginning of my street corner after I moved to London. It is huge, and every fall, it gives beautiful leaves, but that first year, it offered me the feeling of "home" the feeling that things are not so different after all from city to city, country to country. A sort of continuity.