Winter Garden

IN THE GARDEN, I experience the seasons with much greater intensity than anywhere else. And accordingly, the approaching winter also causes greater suffering. The light gets weaker, thinner, and grows pale. I never used to pay that much attention to the light. Now the dying light causes me pain. In the garden, the seasons are mainly perceived through the body. The icy coldness of the water in the rain barrel enters deep into the body. But the pain I feel from it is soothing, even invigorating. It returns reality, even a corporeality to me that is increasingly lost in today’s well-tempered digital world. This world does not know of temperature, of pain, of bodies. The garden, however, is richly sensual and material. It is much richer in world than a screen.