Text by Federico Durand

I reached the garden through an undulating path. It was covered with ivy, laurel, olive and araucaria trees. After climbing a stone staircase, I entered then the winter garden where I had arranged my workplace. The winter garden grabbed the last rays of sun in the afternoon. It was the best place to make music in that big, cold house. There was a tiny table there with a small collection of instruments. When I was recording, I could see the passing of the seasons on trees and plants from the window. At night, the autumn wind whistled through the wooden beams. Sometimes, the winter garden turned grey, like the rainy sky; other days, at sunset, a golden light gave life and color to everything.

This album holds the spirit of an old mountain house, as each pieces of "Winter Garden" was recorded in one take, without edits or later mixes, trying to capture the moment, using a limited palette of sounds to create miniature melodies, the size of a snowflake.