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How to Grow Meyer Lemon Trees from Seed

2012 September 1

If you live in a world without Meyer lemons, you’ll want to read this post.


For Meyers are among the most beautiful lemons around: something of a cross between oranges and their tarter cousins, with a so-sweet fragrance, a large, juicy body, encapsulated by an entirely smooth, yielding, glowingly yellow skin. Not green-yellow or orange yellow, but luminously yellow yellow. Faerie yellow.


If you’ve ever seen a Meyer tree laden with fruit in the cooler weeks of an American fall, elegantly lifting its heavy offerings off the ground and into the sky—or, better:

if you’ve ever watched the one in your backyard bloom with all the new vigor of the warming spring, scenting the air and drawing the bees;

if you’ve ever cut into a Meyer and found your hands dripping with its abundant juice and your fingers fragrant with its delicate flavor;

if you’ve ever savored the bittersweetness of a Meyer upside-down cake and understood how the fruit is an index of life itself;

if you’ve done some or all of these things, you’ll know that you have spied the dancing faeries.

And your life can never really be the same again.




There might well be more robust lemons out there, heirloom varieties with oil-rich skins, from the Bergamots to the Citrons. But the Meyer is a spring faerie who casts a rapturous spell though she passes like a wisp in the summer and keeps you guessing until the first frost bites—when overnight, her fruit turn luminously yellow yellow against the still evergreen of her foliage. A bit like Christmas lights coming on; a sign that the magic is really just beginning.


As I say, your life can never be the same after that. You’ll do bewitched things, like forgetting gadgets and papers and chocolates, filling your backpack trans-continental flight carry-on with harvested lemons till it’s so heavy you can barely hoist it onto your shoulders and convincing airport security that these are special oranges for your children to consume in-flight. Thankfully, no one stops you.

Once home, the fruits will go into curd to make the lemons last, the zest saved for quickbreads, the rest into upside down cakes or lemon bars—each one a buoyant celebration of lemon-ness.




But then when you are left with only one more lemon from a tree no longer your own, you’ll know you’ll have to do something. Fast.

As with all movements that begin with desperation, your first actions will be hasty, ineffectual, and badly planned. You’ll stick seeds in a box and presume that you can, with such ease as that, capture the faerie folk. You’ll stick dried seeds in the earth and command them to do your bidding–which of course they won’t (dehydration reduces the chances of germination dramatically). The next time around, you’ll take a little more care and try your luck with a cutting, but it, too, will brown and dry.

Humbled, you’ll now see fit to pause. You’ve stolen the faerie child; you’ll need nothing short of magic to coax her to life. Study the Meyer, read what the magicians have prophesied, discover the faeries’ secrets by peering through secret pinholes into deep green foliage.

Then and only then, when you have seen what you have seen and known what you can know, with love on your hands and prayers on your lips, you’ll cut open the last fruit. Trembling.

Careful, not to split mature seeds with your knife. In a bowl to catch the precious juice, you’ll find each seed—and pop it into your mouth, relishing its slight acerbity while your tongue licks away the chemical coating that keeps the Meyer seed from germinating too early. You’ll take time to marvel at how the faerie folk keep life at bay until all is well and ready.

When all the seeds are removed and being bathed in your silence, you’ll ready their beds. A small pot, filled with the finest mix of mud and manure that’s around. A few sheets of paper towels, moistened, and a clear plastic bag—you’ll break out the Bounty for this one, from the last precious sneaked-in rolls from your container shipment, and the Hefty, too.

A few seeds will go into the prepared container: holes gently poked into the soil, seeds inserted, covered up. The rest will undergo a slightly different treatment. Steadying your hands, you’ll so-carefully make a small nick on the seed’s white outer coating, and peel it off. Underneath, you’ll find a brown skin. Peel that off, too. [Just for the sake of experimental surety, you’ll leave some seeds with the brown on them, too.] What you’ll be left with is bare life: two curled-up cotyledons to be. Set these gently on the wet paper towels, folding them over the seeds securely. Insert the Bounty arrangement into your Hefty bag, and leave it on a warm spot on your kitchen counter.

And wait.

Calling faerie magic into the wild weeping of your world with incantations:

Come away! O faerie child,
To the water and the wild
With a human, hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping
Than I can understand.

Every other day or so, moisten the soil in your seeded pot, and drip some fresh water on the paper towels.

Wait again.

Peek into the paper towels after about a week or so, and periodically after that, to see if anything has changed.

Wait yet again. It may seem like nothing is happening for an eternity, but everything is happening in ways you cannot be allowed to see. For in truth the faeries are awakening their young in the moist dark, and when they are ready you will see little feet stretching, arms reaching.


Your heart will race with happiness, and overflow with whispered exhortments: Come away! O faerie child,  With a human, hand in hand!

And when the little ones have stretched for a while, you’ll know it’s time to move them again, release them this time to the sun’s rich brightness so that they may extend themselves upwards. The sun knows their secrets, after all; he needs no pinholes through which to spy.

Ready a few more small pots, and set the little germinators in them, taking care to point their roots downwards and the greening cotyledons up. Softly: Come away! O faerie child,  To the water and the wild…

And because you coax it, love it, sing to it, call out to the possibilities of its enchantment every morning and without fail, the Meyer faerie emerges.



The seeds peeled and set in towels to germinate will grow faster. Those just planted straight from the fruit emerge more slowly–one wonders if not also a bit more painfully.

There will have to be more re-pottings and transplants before the baby Meyers can be allowed outdoors, to face the sun’s fiercer face and the life’s vicissitudes. More waiting, more love, more mystical chanting.





There will be no flowers or fruit from these little trees for 8-10 years, until they mature. You will not get anything back from the tree which once was yours until you are close to the year of turning 50. Such is the nature of the task you have selected, and the path you have chosen. You take the Meyer as a sign of how you must be.

You say to your soul:

be still, and wait without hope
For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love
For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith
But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting.
Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought:
So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.

And you chant, at last assured of the enchantment you are invoking:

Come away! O faerie child,
To the water and the wild
With a human, hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping
Than I can understand.


“Faerie child” lines are borrowed and liberally modified from W.B. Yeats’ original “The Stolen Child”; the lines on hope are from T.S. Eliot’s “Four Quartets” [with thanks to Sharanya Manivannan for reminding me of them in a comment on my “banana bundt” post].


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59 Responses Post a comment
  1. September 20, 2012

    Oh Deepa, I am weeping. Because I carried 3 Meyer lemons in my bag home in June. I made the most amazing Lemon tarts with them, and cakes and I moaned the fact that I couldnt plant the seeds. Ask me why I thought that was not possible? My daughter suggested we keep them and I said…na, they wont grow. I thought. This is strange coming from me who has a herb garden where cilantro plants, 3 types of basil, savoury, radishes, asparagus, tomatoes and other beloved plants (grown from seed) share company.

    I planted the seeds even when everyone questioned me, saying ‘Will they grow?’, and me responding ‘ I wont know till I’ve planted them now, will I?’. Why then did I not treasure the Meyer seeds? Why didnt you write this earlier (I’m sorry, this is no blame deflection)! What I do know is that I keep this post in my heart, and the words in my head….because Meyer lemons are a GEM that I cant live without.

    And your drawing and writing are soooooooooooooooo inspired. Glad I met you!

    • September 22, 2012

      You have me crying, too, now that I know, wondering why I didn’t write this earlier–such is the devotion that Meyers inspire. Don’t worry, Oz, even if yours don’t grow, I’ll get you more seeds–somehow, but I will. Now that I know these beauties can be grown this way, I’m rather inspired by their possibilities myself. And never forget that I take constant inspiration from your work–writing, photography, ideas–too. These unexpected friendships are what have made blogging such a rich and fulfilling exercise.

      • April 7, 2013

        Thank you very much for Deepa, even belatedly for getting the seeds to me. I am in such joy…..for the hope that one day, someday, these Meyers shall be mine, growing in my back garden!

  2. September 25, 2012

    You suck. A lot. And in a way most-excellent, if frustrating.

    Yoo-Mi and I had conspired to bring you Meyer lemon seeds to Pondy when we come in November — but you have obviously beaten to that punch.

    What do you get the woman who has everything?


    • September 25, 2012

      Why thank you, MBJ — for those characteristic words of praise, for the thought that you’d arrive with gifts as special as Meyer seeds, and for the affirmation that having Meyers in a place like Pondicherry really does mean one has it all. It may seem like I need the seeds no longer, but if you scroll up and see my response to Kitchen Butterfly, you’ll realize your gift of Meyer seeds is actually a wish come true. So while I keep thinking about what else I could need here to make my circle that much more .. er, circular, bring the Meyer seeds along–secure in the knowledge that half will address my insecurity about having planted all I had, with nothing in reserve, the other half shipped off to a Nigerian friend and fellow food blogger who lives in a world without Meyers. I do have to ask though, having had the experiences I did with dehydrated seeds: have you had better luck with them? Or were you planning to bring them to me in their, you know, yellow yellow, so-juicy, so-lovely natural casing? With a ribbon on top?

    • September 25, 2012

      MBJ, take those seeds to Pondy, and you would have earned a new friend. Not that you are of course seeking new ones, whom you know nothing about. Suffice it to say that Deepa and I are friends…..and that counts for a lot. I shall reward you with a virtual hug. With much kindness

  3. vaishnavi permalink
    October 2, 2012

    Hi Deepa…That is one lovely post on lemons:) do you know if can find a lemon tree sapling in bangalore?

    • October 3, 2012

      Hello Vaishnavi, Thanks for those sweet words and for stopping by. I wish I could help you more on where to find a lemon sapling in Bangalore, which I know poorly though I’ve lived there in patches. Have you tried Indo-American seeds? The last time I was there was in 2001, but they did have lots of very cool plants… Of course, I couldn’t tell you at all if you’d find Meyers there, but ordinary lemons would be much more likely. Do you know Suman Bolar’s site? It might be worht your while to ask her. Good luck, and don’t be a stranger!

  4. Connie permalink
    January 12, 2013

    Your lovely story really struck a cord with me. I just returned from Los Angeles with a bag full of meyer lemons. My last bag. I am selling the house and after removing a nightmare tenant. That same tenant chopped down my beloved lemon tree. The horror, but it turns out the tenant left the trunk standing. And from that trunk sprung shoots laden with lemons.

    I must’ve picked close to 50 lemons, since that would be my last opportunity. I made lemons bars for my work people in Michigan and they raved it was the best batch ever. I have frozen enough juice for 3 more batches to make in the future. And I saved some seeds, which is how I ran across your beautiful story. I’m not sure I have it in me to wait 7 years on meyer lemons grown from seed. And now I’m contemplating buying a tree, since they are said to grow well indoors.

    Nice to find other folks captivated by this very special lemon. It must be the faeries.

    • January 13, 2013

      Connie, What a delightful comment to wake up to–made my Sunday. I smiled at the image of another Meyer-loving kindred spirit hauling a bag of lemons cross-country, treasuring their juices, sharing their lemon-ness (they really DO make the best lemon bars ever!). And I gasped at the thought that anyone would be so unfeeling as to cut down a Meyer tree–it’s a bit like it being a sin to kill a mockingbird. But then there was that happy ending of regrowth, so my faith in the world is regained 🙂 I’ve struggled with my little plants, as the pests and bugs out here love them as much as I do, apparently. So we might both just go with an indoor growing experiment for now. The Meyers were cultivated as ornamental indoor fruiting plants, too, as I understand, so you might not have much difficulty with wintering indoors and sunning in the summers. We used to find Meyer trees at the local nurseries all the time in Houston; no doubt these days they’re available through mail-order sources, too. Good luck, and do let me know how it goes!

      • Patty permalink
        April 27, 2015

        Thank you for posting these lovely instructions for planting Meyer lemon seeds!
        My mother has a Meyer lemon tree in Houston that produces abundant fruit. I could get lemon seeds from her, but I’m wondering… I know that her tree is a grafted one, bought at a Houston nursery. Will the seeds still produce, if they come from a grafted tree? I’d really hate to wait 10 years to find that it never bore fruit, or did not produce ‘real’ Meyer lemons!
        I’ve been looking online for Meyer lemon trees grown from seed online, but I’ve had no luck so far. (Finding online sources willing to ship to Texas is looking difficult, also.) If anyone knows of source, I’d really appreciate your sharing!

        • May 3, 2015

          Hi Patty, So a graft is still a fruit-bearing plant — so a cutting rooted from a fruit-bearing plant, even if it was should theoretically still fruit. Disclaimer here: I’ve tried this with mango, in fact it’s traditional practice in India to cultivate mango so that the trees bear fruit sooner, but I’ve not done this with lemon. And you’re in Texas and looking for an online source? Well, what about just calling a local Lowes or Home Depot — or, better yet, the next time you’re visiting your mother in H-town, just stop by one of the nurseries and pick a plant up. I remember them being around quite often, particularly in the spring.. If I had access to a nursery, I’d make a beeline for one rather than waiting on seeds–wondrous though that process is…

  5. Choi Vo permalink
    June 26, 2013

    Can I have some seeds? I believe I have two spouts growing, but I am unsure if they will ever fruit. Please help me.

    • June 27, 2013

      I wish I had seeds to distribute! As it stands I’m standing guard over my little saplings to keep the ratty squirrels away. They’ve destroyed more than a few of mine — and I could use some extra seeds, too! I’d not hold my breath for fruits — I’m told they could take 8 years. Given the slow rate of growth, I don’t doubt that I’ll have waited to turn 50 before I see this project.. er, bear fruit.

      • Choi Vo permalink
        June 27, 2013

        Whew! I’m glad I started young. Thanks for replying! I totally understand. My wife and I experienced our first meyer lemon a few weeks ago on a whim and we fell in love. We have not seen them again at our local Whole Foods. At least I have to sprouts growing. I heard that sometimes people will get different plants when that take seeds from fruits. Is this true?

        • June 28, 2013

          Not different plants per se, but it’s all about genetic variability, yeah? The child will never quite be identical to the father of the man 🙂 Seriously, it’s why lots of folks turn to grafting rather than seeding. Not only does the process produce fruit faster (because you’ve put an old branch onto a new set of roots), it also assures that the fruit will closer to what the older tree produced. But hey, if you’re in the vicinity of a Whole Foods, then surely you’re also in the vicinity of a Home Depot or a Lowes–both stores with garden centers that will for sure stock Meyers come summertime. It’s where I got my first tree from. Why not keep your seedlings growing, but also get a tree? It’ll take a couple of years to establish–I’ll bet those are grafts, too–but you’ll get fruit really quickly. All for about $15. Or maybe it’s now up to $30, I’m not sure. But still, well worth it for the Meyer! You’re quite right to call the Meyer an “experience.” That it certainly is!

          • Patty permalink
            April 27, 2015

            Lowe’s only has Lisbon lemons at our location!

  6. JoAnn permalink
    July 1, 2013

    I have lots and lots of ‘freebie’ Meyer lemon trees (babies) growing in my garden! I used my compose for my corn this year. Week, the corn is harvested and all that’s left is little lemon trees every! I’m praise my Lord for blessing me with these beauties!

  7. JoAnn permalink
    July 1, 2013

    Sorry for the typos. Typing on my ipad and the words change as I make mistakes. :o)

    • July 2, 2013

      Don’t worry about the typoes — I know how those happen, especially on Apple devices! You’re a lucky woman to have all those freebies. If I’d been closer by, I might have asked to come by for a look. I’m still guarding mine, increasingly ferociously, from all the other bugs and critters who seem to love baby Meyer shoots and leaves. I hope someday I’ll be able to post as you do, about having freebies and inviting folks to come share in the Meyer joy! Here’s hoping your babies thrive and give you lots of beautiful fruit.

  8. Diane Allen Parks permalink
    July 11, 2013

    Oh, my…..I really wasn’t aware that there were others as obsessed with Meyer lemons, as I! We have a dwarf, that we brought back from Florida, to my Mother-in-law, in the 70’s. When she no longer felt like caring for it, we took it back. We have now had it for about 20 years and we wait impatiently every year to have lemons for our tea at Thanksgiving. We live in Tennessee and bring it in every winter, to live, almost forgotten about, in the basement. It always bounces back quickly and begins to bloom, in the spring, after the bees begin to pollinate. I truly love my meyer lemon tree! This year, our local Walmart had bags of meyer lemons on sale for $1…..can you believe that?!?!? Apparently, our little country town doesn’t know the wonder of meyer lemons. I bought bag after bag, and juiced them and popped them into ice trays for the freezer, but alas, I did not think to save the seeds! I, for sure, will save them from our lemons this fall. Thank you so much for this beautiful ode to the meyer lemon!

    • July 23, 2013

      Diane, Thanks for your comment and apologies for the late response on my reply! Indeed, it’s been a delightful surprise, this post and the little community of Meyer-lovers and enthusiasts out there to which it has apparently called out. Loved your vivid snapshot of your tree, its history, its journeys, its place in your life, and in your tea 🙂 Loved hearing also of its resilience. This makes me think that it’s not such a bad thing to leave our plants in pots, where they are relatively safer from bugs and other critters who also love Meyers, but in a most destructive sort of way! Tell me please, how large is your pot? And how many lemons do you usually get each winter? I may never be able to forgive Walmart for selling them by the bags for so little — surely they are worth more — but if it helps others share in Meyer love, then maybe there’s reason to be placated (Walmart’s cheapening of all things is by itself a separate issue). And if you do save seeds and plant your own babies, let me know how it goes.

  9. October 8, 2013

    Thank you, Deepa, for your beautiful post. I have two lemon trees and am about to adopt my neighbours unhappy lemon tree. It seems rather silly to have three lemon trees in a small garden and to suddenly have a dream to grow many more little lemon trees from seeds. But reading your post, inspires me to consider doing it. I didnt realise I’d have to wait that long though!! Off to research where to find your lemons on this side of the world.

    • October 21, 2013

      IMHO, there’re not ever enough lemons to go around and unhappy lemon trees should never be allowed to stay that way–I’m all for world colonization by Meyers 🙂 Would love to hear how your seeding experiment goes!

  10. Deana permalink
    May 29, 2014

    was wondering if the seeds would grow if they had been frozen? I ran into a meyer lemon sale and of course bought several and juiced and zested and the last bag i sliced and froze for summer drinks and iced teas. i never removed the seeds from the slices and it has only been no longer than 6 months , is it possible that they would grow after be thawed?

    • May 30, 2014

      Hmm. There’s no real way to know unless you try–and it can’t hurt, so why not? I wonder if the process of freezing–and then thawing–damages the little kernel that’s inside the seed, and keeps it from germinating. But, as I say, the only way to know for sure is to test it out. Use only “whole” seeds, not ones that may have been nicked in slicing. It’ll be an experiment in Meyer cryogenics! Do let me know how it goes; I’ll be happy to mark an update to this post for any others in similar situations! Thanks for your comment!

  11. Ruth permalink
    September 8, 2014

    I have a beautiful Meyer lemon tree that is 16 inches tall that I started from seed. Question: when do I cut the top so it branches out?

    • September 9, 2014

      Hi Ruth,
      I’m not sure I’d cut the top at all — or just yet. 16″ is still under 2 feet. I’d actually let it grow taller than that (min 3 feet) and then trim the lower branches, rather than from above. Our Meyers (from seed and from nursery saplings) did a pretty good job of branching out on their own with this care. I hope this helps you!

      • Ruth permalink
        September 10, 2014

        Thanks so much! It is about 18 months old and is my baby.

        • September 10, 2014

          Oh I know that sense of having a Meyer baby! It’s such a pleasure to have them around. And they don’t even need diaper changes! Though I’ll say I’ve spent sleepless nights worrying about the bugs and squirrels that attack in the dark. Is yours in a pot or directly in the ground?

  12. Lauren M. permalink
    April 30, 2015

    I am so lucky my parents have a Meyer lemon tree so I could get my seeds in their backyard! I have gotten 4 seeds to grow roots and have planted them in a window that gets morning sun. My question is how do I know when to re-plant them in a bigger pot? And what do I do when I replant them?

    • May 3, 2015

      Lauren, How big are the pots they’re in at the moment? I’d wait until I had at least 6+ real leaves (beyond the cotyledons) and then repot–or longer, if they’re already in 4″+ pot sizes. And when it’s time to re-pot, I’d just take the same care as with any re-potting — prep the new planter well, water it well, try to disturb the roots as little as possible, and water daily until the seedling establishes in its new environment. Another thought: if you have parents with Meyers and you can get a cutting, why not try to root from one of those?

      • Lauren M. permalink
        May 3, 2015

        I have them in styrofoam cups actually–I never thought any of my seeds would actually make it, much less sprout up once planted. Should I remove them from the cups and go ahead and plant them in a bigger pot?

  13. denise permalink
    July 27, 2015

    For the love of Pete ! I don’t need a fantasy – just tell me how to plant the seeds!
    Mercy !

    • July 29, 2015

      The “fantasy” was written for my own pleasure and amusement, and that of anyone else who cared to share it with me. If that’s not your cup of poison, or you can’t see that instructions are written out in the graphic, do please search for them elsewhere.

      • Pat Tiedemann permalink
        October 14, 2017

        I absolutely love this response. I also feel sorry for her that she couldn’t appreciate the lyrical sprite at work.

        • October 23, 2017

          You made me smile not just once but twice–thank you Pat! Indeed, what’s a world without a lyrical sprite at work…

  14. Miki permalink
    September 14, 2015

    Hi Deepa,

    I live in the NorthWest Region, and got inspired to grow various citrus fruits from seed. Your article was very helpful. I have also grown Meyer lemons. They are now approx. 2 inches tall (seed put to germinate in late July 2015). Now, I have a question, to which I have found varying information. Would you happen to know if Meyer lemons grow true from seed? I managed to get all my seeds to germinate and have shared the seedlings with friends, and have kept two for myself. Both the seedlings look different from each other, one is a darker green foliage and the other looks more like my other regular lemon seedling. Would appreciate your insight.

    • September 18, 2015

      Hello Miki, Since my own plants are only a couple of years old still, I don’t know from experience the answer to your question. But I will say that some variation is probably very natural — plants grown from seed are kind-of like children born to parents: no two can ever be completely alike. For alike-ness what growers do is use grafting techniques (which also advance fruiting). But that’s only for those of us lucky enough to have had trees and saplings to work with in the first place, rather than just all the plump promise of the lemons themselves! I’ll send this reply on email, too, just in case. Thanks for the comment!

  15. Carlota permalink
    November 18, 2015

    Once my seeds are in the moist paper towel, do I need to keep them in a bright place, or do they need darkness to simulate being in the ground?

    • November 25, 2015

      Well, they have darkness by virtue of being in the moist paper towel. I kept mine out, for easier monitoring, and keeping an eye out for any mould that could grow on moist things. But a shady spot out of direct light is definitely necessary. Thanks for the question!

  16. David permalink
    January 17, 2016

    does anyone have a few meyers lemon seeds you can send me please
    thanks and God Bless

    • Lynn McCann permalink
      February 3, 2016

      Just now saw your post. Last night I prepared about 115 Meyer lemon seeds in paper towels and ziplock bags to hopefully sprout. This is my first attempt to sprout Meyer lemons. Fortunately I left a few lemons in the frig for future use. I’m not sure how to ship seeds (how to prepare the seeds for shipment). Is it’s better to send seeds or sprouts? These are from a potted Meyer lemon tree that I propagated as a cutting, from a store bought tree, while we lived in Louisiana. We live in Ohio now and the tree has done splendidly outside during spring, summer and fall…..then wintering inside. It has thrived in the NE for six years. This year our tree produced over 44 lemons. Please let me know to get hold of you to send you some seeds.
      Best regards…… Lynn

      • February 18, 2016

        Hello Lynn, My response is unforgivably late, but I did want to write to say it’s so kind of you to be willing to share Meyer love like this! I will say also that I’ve tried sending sprouted seeds to friends but they didn’t quite make even the trip from Houston to NY without trial and a little fungus. My suggestion would be to send just the seeds, even wrapped in moist (not wet) paper towels, or, better, a whole lemon if you can spare one. And then follow the instructions given for germinating. Good luck! and thanks again for your kindness.

  17. May 16, 2016

    Hi Deepa,
    What a wonderful dreamy Meyer love story! Thank you for sharing…
    I followed your instructions and have thus encouraged eight Meyer lemon seeds to sprout… They are sitting by a sunny window in my apartment in Mumbai. I will re-pot them in a few days so that they don’t have to share the same growing medium (me of little faith had put 5 little sprouts in one pot)!
    I am writing to say ‘thank you’ – your instructions were spot on and the seeds germinated fairly quickly. I did try to soak and pot a few seeds, just as an experiment – it didn’t work – so there is certainly some magic in your method.
    This is where I ordered them from… (in case anyone in India is looking for seeds)
    I do hope they are genuine Meyer lemon seeds though…guess I will know for sure in a decade!

    • May 16, 2016

      Nothing could have made me happier than hearing this! Thanks for leaving that comment & the link, which I shall definitely check out–and hope.. I would love, love, love to see images of your Meyer seedlings, now and as they grow. Would you mind very much posting them to the blog’s facebook page? ( I have images from a few others who’ve used these methods to grow from seed, and those from my own struggling-thriving Meyer plants which I’ve long intended to compile. It’d be wonderful to have yours in the mix, even as a way waiting through the next decade 😀

  18. May 18, 2016

    Hello, Deepa!
    Thank you for your lovely prose and clear directions on propagating Meyer Lemons. I followed the instructions and happily, all 12 seeds have sprouted! I am also sprouting Medjool date seeds in a similar way (I did not, however, “peel” the seeds) and so far, 3 have sprouted! My family loves lemons of all kind – but Meyer lemons are our absolute favorites and I am so excited to see how they do! I never expected 100% germination, though.
    I would love to share a photo, but haven’t figured out how to accomplish this.
    Thank you for your assistance!
    Beth Meyer
    Wauwatosa, WI, USA

    • May 30, 2016

      Beth, hello,thanks so much for your comment & many apologies for the lateness of mine (family, illness, work, you name it). I’m so happy to hear the method worked and would love, love to have a photo– you can email it to me if you like (deepa[at]paticheri[dot]com) or better still post it to Paticheri’s facebook page: .. I have now photos from some others, and need to get images of my Meyers up, too (one is my height!!), in an album devoted to tracking these little journeys. I’ve never tried dates, but good to know that can be done, and sounds simpler than Meyers, too. Do keep me posted on how your Meyers (and dates) do!

  19. Doreen permalink
    May 30, 2016


    I am so thankful that I found your writings as I was looking up information about growing Meyers from seeds. My in-laws have a Dwarf Meyer in their back yard that is suspected to be near 70 years old. It is failing in health now due to a neighbors planting of Bamboo which is blocking out much of the sunlight that this gem needs. We just got back from visiting there and we brought back 5 lemons that I will be harvesting seeds from. I am looking forward to witnessing the magic!! I also think I will purchase a bigger tree to keep indoors, maybe as an inspiration to my little babies.
    I look forward to reading more of your posts and will follow your FB page.
    Thank you for your lovely guide.

    • June 1, 2016

      Hello Doreen, How nice to read your comment and all your kind words! And yes indeed, growing from seed may be a way to preserve your in-laws’ Meyer in some form. If it helps to know, I stored my Meyers for quite some months before harvesting, sprouting, and planting the seeds. So you could well time yourself, based on seasons..though I suppose now in the United States is the best time to get going isn’t it? I wish you much luck and would love, love to see images of your seeds as they sprout and saplings as they grow. I just created an album on the blog’s facebook page to keep track of just these sorts of Meyer journeys and posted a couple of photos of my own plants–which are thriving, unbelievably, so far from their native lands and against all odds in our hot, scorching town. So I’ve no doubt your own will do brilliantly. Do stay in touch.

  20. Pat Tiedemann permalink
    October 14, 2017

    OMG! I am in heaven! I absolutely love Meyers Lemons, but even more I love your poetry! I’m a 56 yr old hippy and I totally love your presentation. I know this is a very old post but I hope you are still actively writing.
    Thank you so much,

    • October 23, 2017

      Hello Pat, I was traveling–hence the late reply. Your comment made me so very happy. Jubilant, in fact. I’m glad my post found you. I’m a slow, delinquent blogger, but yes indeed, I’m still writing–as you can see from the blog’s home page. Thank you again!

Trackbacks & Pingbacks

  1. November 2012: ‘Made in Nigeria’ – In My Kitchen | Kitchen Butterfly
  2. The Anatomy of a Meyer Lemon | Kitchen Butterfly
  3. How to grow Meyer Lemons from seed | Kitchen Butterfly
  4. Guest Post on Meyers: Living with Lemons | Kitchen Butterfly
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