Michaela Merz


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Green fingers


As a child I was forced by my father to weed his fruit and vegetable garden. That was uncomfortable, boring and for me quite senseless. I would have preferred to play with colleagues, instead of making a contribution to the economic success of my father, the hobby gardener. His successes were also mixed and it seemed to me that that the cost far outweighed the benefit. Once condemned to gardening, there was no escape. Continue reading


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A usual Sunday


When I came home on Saturday evening, my first way was to my vegetable garden. My vegetable garden is my pride, my baby, my passion. As with one’s own children, the success is mixed. Every now and then it works out marvellous and then we, all our neighbours and half of the family in Switzerland and abroad eat the fruits of my efforts. So for example six years ago, when I had planted cauliflower and it had grown like mad. For weeks we ate cauliflower dishes with the effect that since then the children refuse to eat cauliflower. Organic or not. Continue reading