From Meyer Lemons to Asian Treasures: The Extraordinary Life of Frank Nicholas Meyer

November 30, 1875

On this day in horticultural history, Frank Nicholas Meyer, the intrepid Dutch-American plant explorer, entered the world. His birth heralded the arrival of a man whose passion for plants would quite literally change the landscape of American agriculture.

Meyer, a veritable botanical buccaneer, sailed the seas of opportunity as an explorer for the USDA. His voyages to the far reaches of Asia yielded a treasure trove of 2,500 new plant specimens. Imagine, dear gardeners, the excitement of discovering the elegant Korean Lilac, the versatile Soybean, or the majestic Chinese Horse Chestnut. Meyer's green-thumbed touch graced our gardens with Water Chestnuts, hearty Oats, Wild Pears, the mystical Ginkgo Biloba, and luscious Persimmons, to name but a few of his leafy legacies.

Yet, it is a humble citrus that has become Meyer's most enduring namesake. The Meyer Lemon, a serendipitous find growing in a Peking doorway, is believed to be nature's own cocktail - a zesty blend of standard lemon and mandarin orange. One can almost picture Meyer's eyes lighting up at the sight of this golden orb, his mind already racing with thoughts of its potential in American orchards.

Meyer's early reputation as a rambler and a loner seems fitting for a man who found his greatest companionship among the flora he studied. In a poignant confession penned on October 11, 1901, he revealed:

I am pessimistic by nature and have not found a road which leads to relaxation. I withdraw from humanity and try to find relaxation with plants.

Indeed, Meyer's affinity for his chlorophyllous companions ran so deep that he christened them with names and engaged them in conversation. One can almost envision him whispering words of encouragement to a struggling seedling or congratulating a particularly robust specimen.

China's vast botanical tapestry left Meyer positively spellbound. In a letter to David Fairchild in May 1907, he mused:

[One] short life will never be long enough to find out all about this mighty land. When I think about all these unexplored areas, I get fairly dazzled... I will have to roam around in my next life.

But let us not be fooled by the romantic notion of the plant explorer. Meyer's journeys were fraught with peril, as Edward B. Clark vividly described in Technical World in July 1911:

Frank has frozen and melted alternately as the altitudes have changed. He has encountered wild beasts and men nearly as wild. He has scaled glaciers and crossed chasms of dizzying depths. He has been the subject of the always-alert suspicions of government officials and strange peoples - jealous of intrusions into their land, but he has found what he was sent for.

Meyer's exceptional ability to source plants suited to America's diverse growing regions was matched only by his legendary stamina. While his peers were carried in sedan chairs, Meyer preferred to traverse tens of miles daily on foot. This pedestrian prowess granted him access to the most treacherous and secluded corners of interior Asia, from the depths of China to the heights of Korea, Manchuria, and Russia.

Alas, Meyer's final journey was to be his last. His body was discovered floating in the Yangtze River days after he had boarded a steamer bound for America. The circumstances of his death remain shrouded in mystery, much like the mist-covered mountains he so often explored. His final letters home painted a portrait of a man burdened by loneliness, sadness, and exhaustion, lamenting that his responsibilities seemed "heavier and heavier."

As we tend our gardens today, let us remember Frank Nicholas Meyer, whose life's work continues to bear fruit in our orchards, bloom in our flowerbeds, and nourish our tables. His legacy reminds us that the life of a Plant Explorer, while filled with wonder and discovery, was indeed anything but easy.