The Dragon of Yankee Fork: Spalding Viaduct

This is a guest post by Martha Dalke Hindman. It is an excerpt from her upcoming book, The Dragon of Yankee Fork. This is the final of three posts. See also: Devil’s Washbasins and Grave Markers.

———————

Spalding Viaduct, from the Old Mission site over the Railroad tracks
Built in 1924, steel rods, concrete construction, supporting arches and pillars.
570 feet long, 20 feet wide, a Link in U.S. Highway 95 connecting Idaho, North to South.
Today, a Chain Link Fence and Steel Gates surround the structure.

Black Locust trees, cascading white or lavender flowers
Compound leaves, dark brown seed pods.
Shade and shelter for family picnics and softball games
Beside the Spalding Viaduct, the Nez Perce Tribal Cemetery

black locust (Robinia pseudoacacia)

Travel with my Dad was always an adventure. However, the Spalding Viaduct on U.S. Highway 95, was the scariest stretch of concrete highway, we ever encountered.

Dad slowed to a stop as we approached the Spalding Viaduct. A semi tractor-trailer rig was traveling north and in the center of the viaduct, leaving no room for any other vehicles. I watched as the driver carefully drove his rig down the narrow span. The driver slowed, saluted his “thanks” to us, and continued his journey. Normal traffic, backed up at either end of the viaduct, continued to their destinations. Dad and I were on our way to Boise – Idaho’s Capitol City.

Dad continued the story about how the Spalding Viaduct on U.S. Highway 95 connects the State of Idaho, North to South and South to North.

“The Spalding Viaduct is the vital link for travelers to stay within the geographical boundaries of the State of Idaho. Otherwise, to reach Boise from Lewiston, travel west and south on U. S. Highway 12 to Walla Walla, Washington, cross the Columbia River south to Umatilla, Oregon Highway 82. Outside Umatilla, connect with U.S. Highway 84 east through Southeast Oregon, across the Snake River at Ontario, Oregon and into Boise. The only other way to reach Boise from our home in Moscow, is to travel south on U.S. Highway 95 to Lewiston, turn east on U.S. Highway 12 into Hamilton, Montana. From Hamilton, south on U.S. Highway 93 through the magnificent Bitterroot Valley, to the Montana, Idaho border. U.S. Highway 15 takes you to Idaho Falls and U.S. Highway 86 into Boise. Coming from our home in Moscow, travel time to Boise would be two days. That is why the Spalding Viaduct is so vital to North-South and South-North traffic.”

“Dad, do we change time zones before we reach Boise??”

“Yes, Martha Lee. Time zones change from Pacific Standard Time, to Mountain Standard Time when we cross the Salmon River Bridge at Riggins. Because we are traveling south, we lose one hour. Watch for a roadside park with a picnic table. Mother packed a lunch full of sandwiches, goodies and a thermos full of ice cold water. We should arrive in Boise about 7 pm. Mountain Standard Time. In the meantime, enjoy the scenery.”

“Dad, there is JUST the place for our picnic, under the shade of the black locust trees.”

We parked our car at the picnic area next to the Spalding Viaduct. The black locust trees in bloom, a gentle breeze brought “fishy” smells from the Clearwater River, the water still high and rapid from the spring rains. The log drive was finished, only a few pieces of debris floated by.

Several families were finishing their noon meal, as we sat down at the long wooden table and unpacked our lunch. Mother had prepared peanut butter and honey sandwiches, potato salad, liverwurst slices, cheddar cheese, carrots and strawberries from our garden, chocolate chip cookies, and a large Coleman thermos of cold water. What a feast!

The afternoon sun was warm, the breeze calm, just the recipe for a game of softball. Dad batted first. A gentle swing to left field. Home Run!!

My turn to bat! I swung, missing the first ball. The second pitch, I hit, but it flew straight into the Clearwater River. The strong current carried my softball downstream. I could not catch it. End of Game!

I cried. Dad put his strong arms around my sagging shoulders. “It’s OK, Martha Lee. I’ll see to it that you have another softball. We will never know how far your old ball will travel. It may get stuck in debris along the river banks, or it may end up in the Pacific Ocean, riding the ocean currents to the shores of the Hawaiian Islands, or maybe even into Shanghai Harbor, China!”

Several days later, Dad came home with a package under his arm. With a twinkle in his eye, Dad gave me the box. I opened the shiny, square box. Inside was a new softball ready to be played with and loved just as much as the old one.

Thanks, Dad.

Additional Information:

The Spalding Viaduct is falling apart, literally. Large pieces of the concrete columns become loose and fall to the ground. This once vital link on U.S. Highway 95 is closed with steel gates and a chain link fence. Moss grows where semi trucks carrying goods and produce South to North and North to South, passenger cars and buses, traveling South to Boise and North to Canada, watched out for each other on the narrow roadway.

Modern day travelers and truck traffic continues to travel North-South and South-North on U.S. Highway 95, over a new bridge (built in 1962) across the Clearwater River to the East of the Spalding Viaduct. A new stretch of highway was constructed from the river bridge, over the railroad tracks, up the hill, and onto the Camas Prairie. U.S. Highway 95 continues south to Grangeville, Riggins, and ends at Middleton, Idaho. U.S. Highway 44 connects with U.S. Highway 84 into Boise.

Updates were made to the current bridge in 2014. Click here for more information.

———————

Poetry, personal stories, images, journal entries, recipes for Springerle, Cinnamon Rolls, Fried Cakes, “a little bit of science thrown in for good measure,” print and online resources, all define “The Dragon of Yankee Fork,” an Idaho Alphabet from A to Z. It all began on a long piece of cream colored shelf paper! (Visit the Go Fund Me page to learn more about the project and contribute to its creation.)

Martha Dalke Hindman’s outdoor classroom was the travel adventures she shared with her father around the State of Idaho. From dusty roads, fishing expeditions, and a keen sense of observation, learning about Idaho’s heritage gave Ms. Hindman her voice in poetry and personal short stories. She may be reached at martha20022 [at] gmail [dot] com.

Advertisements

2018: Year in Review

Another year has passed, which means it’s time again for a Year in Review. As I have done in the past, I am including links to a selection of posts that came out in 2018. Most of these posts are part of ongoing series. You can find the rest of the posts from 2018 in the Archives widget on the right side of the screen (or at the bottom of the page if you are viewing this on a mobile device).

Among many memorable happenings this year, the one I feel most compelled to highlight here is a short radio show that a friend and I started doing on Radio Boise, our community radio station. The show is called Boise Biophila, and each week Casey O’Leary and I spend about a minute each talking about something biology or ecology related with the goal of encouraging people to get outside and take a closer look at the natural world around them. After the shows air, I put them up on our Soundcloud page for all to hear for years to come. You can follow us there, as well as on our Facebook page.

Ficus carica via PhyloPic

In the spring of 2018 we set up a Donorbox account, which is a simple way for people who enjoy Awkward Botany and want to see it continue to give us a little financial encouragement. We received several donations at that time, and we are very grateful to those that contributed. But just like public radio or any other organization that would like to receive your support in the form of money, we continue our plea. If Awkward Botany means something to you and you feel compelled to share some of your hard-earned dollars with us, we are happy to receive them and promise to put them to good use.

Donate

Money aside, a major contribution you can make to the success of Awkward Botany is to share it with your friends. Spread the word in conversation, through the postal system, over the phone, or through one or more of the myriad social media platforms. However you choose to share is none of our business. We are just happy that you do.

You are also encouraged to follow our various social media pages: Twitter, Tumblr, and Facebook. Above all, keep reading. We have lots more posts in the works for 2019, and we wouldn’t want you to miss out on the fun. Our appreciation for plants and the natural world is a constant, and we hope you will continue to share in our botany nerd revelry throughout the coming year.

Fragaria vesca via PhyloPic

Book Reviews:

Botany in Popular Culture:

Tiny Plants:

Field Trip:

Eating Weeds:

Two-parters:

Guest Posts:

The Dragon of Yankee Fork: Grave Markers

This is a guest post by Martha Dalke Hindman. It is an excerpt from her upcoming book, The Dragon of Yankee Fork. This is the second of three posts. See also: Devil’s Washbasins.

———————

Grave Markers preserve for the Ages, records etched in stone.
The Firefighters Circle, Woodlawn Cemetery, St. Maries, Idaho.
57 of the 94 men, who perished fighting the Great Fire of 1910
Rest together in this Sacred Space.

Sentinels towering in the late afternoon Sun,
Old growth Western Red Cedar trees,
Their fragrant, graceful boughs swaying in the breeze
Watch over the square, Red Granite stones.

western redcedar (Thuja plicata)

On a warm and breezy Wednesday afternoon in 2005, peaceful and quiet when Kaye and I visited Woodlawn Cemetery in St. Maries, Idaho. The Firefighters Circle, a tribute to the men who died fighting the Great Fire of 1910. Here, together they rest forever.

“Look carefully at the Grave Markers, Kaye.”

“Do you see the names of each firefighter and the place where he perished; Big Creek, Storm Creek, Defaut Gulch, Swamp Creek and Wallace?”

The men were buried where they had fallen. In 1912, the United States Forest Service hired an undertaking company to exhume the bodies and bring them here to Woodlawn Cemetery, to be identified by family members. The bodies identified by family members are buried in several cities in Idaho and five other states beyond Idaho’s borders. The firefighters with no family members to identify them were first generation immigrant men from Europe. Those are the fifty-seven men buried in a “circle within a circle”, facing each other, creating their own “family” here in Woodlawn Cemetery.

Firefighters’ Circle at Woodlawn Cemetery, St. Maries, Idaho in 2005

My daughter stopped for a moment, tears in her eyes. Her gaze met mine.

“Why the tears, Sweetie?” I asked.

I realized from her expression she was remembering her father’s graveside service in May, 1994. I put my arms around her and held her close. She was missing her Dad, just as much as the families of those firefighters resting together at Woodlawn Cemetery, were missing their loved ones.

The Firefighters Circle at Woodlawn Cemetery, St. Maries, Idaho was rededicated, August 20, 2010, with parades, speeches and an ongoing commitment by the men and women who help protect Idaho’s natural woodlands.

Firefighters’ Circle at Woodlawn Cemetery, St. Maries, Idaho in 2015 (via wikimedia commons)

———————

Poetry, personal stories, images, journal entries, recipes for Springerle, Cinnamon Rolls, Fried Cakes, “a little bit of science thrown in for good measure,” print and online resources, all define “The Dragon of Yankee Fork,” an Idaho Alphabet from A to Z. It all began on a long piece of cream colored shelf paper! (Visit the Go Fund Me page to learn more about the project and contribute to its creation.)

Martha Dalke Hindman’s outdoor classroom was the travel adventures she shared with her father around the State of Idaho. From dusty roads, fishing expeditions, and a keen sense of observation, learning about Idaho’s heritage gave Ms. Hindman her voice in poetry and personal short stories. She may be reached at martha20022 [at] gmail [dot] com.

More Urban Botanical Art

Two years ago I shared my first collection of urban botanical art photos. Since that time I have collected several more. I had hoped to get lots of photos during my trips out of town, and while I did manage to get a few, it turns out that my hometown of Boise, Idaho has a sizable (and growing) selection of plant-related public art. Thus, several of these are local finds.

As I mentioned in the original post, if you have photos of urban botanical art that you would like to share with me, please do so either through twitter, tumblr, facebook, or some other means.

Utility box on the corner of 13th and River Streets in Boise, Idaho

Utility box on American Legion Boulevard in Mountain Home, Idaho

Downtown Anchorage, Alaska

Downtown Anchorage, Alaska

Restrooms at the edge of Warm Springs Golf Course in Boise, Idaho. All plants represented are native to Idaho.

A plaque featuring botanical and common names accompanies each plant. 

Sculpture at Richmond Nature Park in Richmond, BC, Canada

In the Food Garden at UBC Botanical Garden in Vancouver, BC, Canada

Reverse-Rebirth sculpture by Han Seok Hyun at Idaho Botanical Garden in Boise, Idaho

Paintings of flowers displayed outside of Boise Creative Center in Boise, Idaho

Utility box on the corner of Myrtle Street and Broadway Avenue in Boise, Idaho

Downtown Mountain Home, Idaho (Community Canvas of Moho)

Mural by Stephen Murphy (my dad!) in downtown Mountain Home, Idaho (Community Canvas of Moho)

The Dragon of Yankee Fork: Devil’s Washbasins

This is a guest post by Martha Dalke Hindman. It is an excerpt from her upcoming book, The Dragon of Yankee Fork

———————

July through September, river water is low, cold, clear.
Four huge, round washbasins appear in an ageless,
Rectangular, horizontal piece of white granite rock.
“Devil’s Washbasins,” at Selway Falls.

Cousin to the domestic Raspberry,
Thimbleberries grow along the river bank.
White blossoms, no thorns, broad indented leaves,
Red berries, a bit of sugar, delectable desert.

thimbleberry (Rubus parviflorus)

Long shadows on the dusty, winding road, from Race Creek to Selway Falls, made driving a challenge. Kaye and I stopped at Selway Falls to rest and look into “The Devil’s Washbasins.” Although the Falls are not particularly high, only 25 feet, the sound of the water cascading over timeless, granite boulders, into the river below, creates a world unto itself.

A cream colored car with Oregon license plates slowed to a stop. A man and woman stepped out. I smiled and asked if I could be of assistance.

“Can you tell us WHERE Selway Falls is,” the gentleman asked. “There is no marker.”

“Selway Falls is right here,” I explained. “Do you hear the rushing, tumbling water?”

“But, but! That is just a pile of rocks!!” The gentleman exclaimed. “We expected to see falls like Multnomah Falls near Portland, Oregon.”

“I am sorry you are so disappointed.” I said. I explained that waterfalls the height and size of Multnomah are not found in this particular part of the country. “If you care to stop at Fenn Ranger Station, I am sure the ranger on duty can give you more detailed information about the falls. You will see a large sign reading, ‘Fenn Ranger Station, Nez Perce National Forest’, as you return to the blacktop portion of the road.”

Thoroughly disillusioned and disgusted, the couple returned to their car and drove away in a cloud of dust!

“Devil’s Washbasins” is this author’s name for four giant bowls in white Granite rock at the bottom of Selway Falls on the Selway River, Nez Perce-Clearwater National Forest. The bowls created by centuries of water, can only be observed when the river water is low, usually after the 4th of July and until snow covers the forest. Observe the calm pool at the top of the falls. Enjoy the water’s music and beauty. Help to preserve its Integrity.

“Selway Falls technically is not a falls. It is called a ‘cataract.’ This occurred when the North side of the mountain slid into the river. The flow of the water found ways to continue its journey to the sea. Small pools formed, the water moved around boulders 30 feet in diameter, as well as over and under downed trees, submerged logs, smaller rocks and debris. The water level fluctuates from 23 feet to 32 feet, dependent upon the winter’s snowpack in the mountains and the spring run off.“ [Columbia River Fisheries Development Program, February 1, 1967, STATE OF IDAHO, Fish and Game Department, John R. Woodworth, Director. Pages not numbered.]

A FOREST CHASM

I looked into the Chasm

Of Selway Falls

Late one Summer afternoon.

Four irregular washbasins

In one piece of Granite

Basked In the Summer Sun

Waiting for—

The Seasons to change

Fall, Winter, Spring.

Who comes to drink

From these four washbasins?

Only the River

And the forest

Animals know.

We humans can

Only Imagine!

Resources:

———————

Poetry, personal stories, images, journal entries, recipes for Springerle, Cinnamon Rolls, Fried Cakes, “a little bit of science thrown in for good measure,” print and online resources, all define “The Dragon of Yankee Fork,” an Idaho Alphabet from A to Z. It all began on a long piece of cream colored shelf paper! (Visit the Go Fund Me page to learn more about the project and contribute to its creation.)

Martha Dalke Hindman’s outdoor classroom was the travel adventures she shared with her father around the State of Idaho. From dusty roads, fishing expeditions, and a keen sense of observation, learning about Idaho’s Heritage gave Ms. Hindman her voice in poetry and personal short stories. She may be reached at martha20022 [at] gmail [dot] com.

How to Identify Puncture Vine (a.k.a. the Goathead Monster)

This post originally appeared on Idaho Botanical Garden’s blog. With the first annual Boise Goathead Fest fast approaching, the purpose of this post is to help people in the Treasure Valley identify goatheads so that they can collect them for drink tokens to use at the event. I’m reposting it here in hopes that people around the globe who are tormented by goatheads might benefit from it. All photos in this post were taken by Anna Lindquist.

———————

If you have spent much time on a bicycle in Boise, chances are you have been the victim of a goathead-induced flat tire. You probably even got a good look at the spiky nutlet as you went to remove it from your tire. But where did the culprit come from? No doubt, it came from a plant. But which one?

This is particularly useful to know right now because the first annual Boise Goathead Fest is coming up, and if you manage to fill a garbage bag full of these noxious weeds before the end of July, you will earn yourself a drink token. Fortunately, this plant is fairly easy to identify; however, there are a few look-a-likes, so it is important to familiarize yourself with the plant in question so you can be sure you are pulling the right one.

puncture vine (Tribulus terrestris)

Puncture vine, also known as goathead or Tribulus terrestris, is a warm season annual that is native to the Mediterranean region of southern Europe. It was introduced to North America unintentionally by early European settlers when the plant’s blasted burs snuck their way across the ocean in sheep wool. Since then, puncture vine has spread across the continent prolifically thanks to the hitchhiking prowess of its seeds.

Behold, the infamous Goathead Monster.

Puncture vine has a prostrate habit, meaning that its branches lie flat on the ground, spreading outward from a central location. It grows upward only when it is being shaded or crowded out. Its leaves are divided into several tiny leaflets, and its flowers are small and bright yellow with five petals. It is an otherwise pretty plant were it not for the threatening, jagged fruits that follow the flowers. As these fruits dry, they dislodge from the plant, split into five pieces, and lay in wait to puncture your tire, work their way into the bottom of your shoe or the foot of an animal, or latch onto some errant fur.

puncture vine (Tribulus terrestris)

Depending on the conditions, puncture vine either remains fairly small or spreads as much as six feet wide. Fruits start forming shortly after flowering, and seeds ripen soon after that, so if the plant isn’t removed quickly – nutlets and all – future populations are guaranteed. Luckily the plants are fairly easy to remove. Unless the ground is particularly compact, they pull up easily, and if they break off at the root, they generally don’t sprout back.

Virtually any plant that has a prostrate growth habit and is actively growing in the summer could, at first glance, be mistaken for puncture vine. Closer inspection will help confirm the plant’s true identity. Two plants that might confuse you are purslane and spotted spurge. Both of these species can be found growing in full sun in disturbed or neglected sites in close company with puncture vine.

Purslane has tiny, yellow, five-petaled flowers similar to puncture vine; however, its leaves are glossy and succulent-like and its stems and leaves often have a red to purple hue to them. Purslane seeds are miniscule, and while the plant can be a nuisance in a garden bed, it poses no threat to bicycles or wildlife.

purslane (Portulaca oleracea)

Spotted spurge, also known as prostrate spurge, can be quickly distinguished by the milky sap that oozes from its broken stems. Its leaves are generally reddish purple on the undersides with a purple spot on top. Its flowers are minute and its seeds even smaller. Because its sap contains latex and other chemicals, it can irritate the skin and poison creatures that dare eat it.

spotted spurge (Euphorbia maculata)

Both of these plants are introduced, weedy species, so even if they won’t count towards your drink token, it still doesn’t hurt to pull them. Puncture vine, however, is included on Idaho’s noxious weed list, which means it is particularly problematic. So take this opportunity to pull as many as you can, and hopefully we can put a sizeable dent in the population of a plant that has tormented Boise bicyclists for far too long.

See Also: Plant vs. Bike

Idaho’s Native Milkweeds

Concern for monarch butterflies has resulted in increasing interest in milkweeds. Understandably so, as they are the host plants and food source for the larval stage of these migrating butterflies. But milkweeds are an impressive group of plants in their own right, and their ecological role extends far beyond a single charismatic insect. Work to save the monarch butterfly, which requires the expansion of milkweed populations, will in turn provide habitat for countless other organisms. A patch of milkweed teems with life, and the pursuit of a single caterpillar helps us discover and explore that.

Asclepias – also known as the milkweeds – is a genus consisting of around 140 species, 72 of which are native to the United States and Canada. Alaska and Hawaii are the only states in the United States that don’t have a native species of milkweed. The ranges of some species native to the United States extend down into Mexico where there are numerous other milkweed species. Central America and South America are also home to many distinct milkweed species.

The habitats milkweeds occupy are about as diverse as the genus itself – from wetlands to prairies, from deserts to forests, and practically anywhere in between. Some species occupy disturbed and/or neglected sites like roadsides, agricultural fields, and vacant lots. For this reason they are frequently viewed as a weed; however, such populations are easily managed, and with such an important ecological role to play, they don’t deserve to be vilified in this way.

Milkweed species are not distributed across the United States evenly. Texas and Arizona are home to the highest diversity with 37 and 29 species respectively. Idaho, my home state, is on the low end with six native species, most of which are relatively rare. The most common species found in Idaho is Asclepias speciosa commonly known as showy milkweed.

showy milkweed (Asclepias speciosa)

Showy milkweed is distributed from central U.S. westward and can be found in all western states. It occurs throughout Idaho and is easily the best place to look for monarch caterpillars. Side note: the monarch butterfly is Idaho’s state insect, thanks in part to the abundance of showy milkweed. This species is frequently found growing in large colonies due to its ability to reproduce vegetatively via adventitious shoots produced on lateral roots or underground stems. Only a handful of milkweed species reproduce this way. Showy milkweed reaches up to five feet tall and has large ovate, gray-green leaves. Like all milkweed species except one (Asclepias tuberosa), its stems and leaves contain milky, latex sap. In early summer, the stems are topped with large umbrella-shaped inflorescences composed of pale pink to pink-purple flowers.

The flowers of milkweed deserve a close examination. Right away you will notice unique features not seen on most other flowers. The petals of milkweed flowers bend backwards, allowing easy access to the flower’s sex parts if it wasn’t for a series of hoods and horns protecting them. Collectively, these hoods and horns are called the corona, which houses glands that produce abundant nectar and has a series of slits where the anthers are exposed. The pollen grains of milkweed are contained in waxy sacs called pollinia. Two pollinia are connected together by a corpusculum giving this structure a wishbone appearance. An insect visiting the flower for nectar slips its leg into the slit, and the pollen sacs become attached with the help of the corpusculum. When the insect leaves, the pollen sacs follow where they can be inadvertently deposited on the stigmas of another flower.

Milkweed flowers are not self-fertile, so they require assistance by insects to sexually reproduce. They are not picky about who does it either, and their profuse nectar draws in all kinds of insects including bees, butterflies, moths, beetles, wasps, and ants. Certain insects – like bumble bees and other large bees – are more efficient pollinators than others. Once pollinated, seeds are formed inside a pod-like fruit called a follicle. The follicles of showy milkweed can be around 5 inches long and house dozens to hundreds of seeds. When the follicle matures, it splits open to release the seeds, which are small, brown, papery disks with a tuft of soft, white, silky hair attached. The seeds of showy milkweed go airborne in late summer.

follicles forming on showy milkweed (Asclepias speciosa)

Whorled or narrowleaf milkweed (Asclepias fascicularis) is widespread in western Idaho and neighboring states. It is adapted to dry locations, but can be found in a variety of habitats. Like showy milkweed, it spreads rhizomatously as well as by seed. Its a whispy plant that can get as tall as four feet. It has long, narrow leaves and produces tight clusters of greenish-white to pink-purple flowers. Its seed pods are long and slender and its seeds are about 1/4 inch long.

flowers of Mexican whorled milkweed (Asclepias fascicularis)

seeds escaping from the follicle of Mexican whorled milkweed (Asclepias fascicularis)

Swamp or rose milkweed (Asclepias incarnata) is more common east of Idaho, but occurs occasionally in southwestern Idaho. As its common names suggests, it prefers moist soils and is found in wetlands, wet meadows, and along streambanks. It can spread rhizomatously, but generally doesn’t spread very far. It reaches up to four feet tall, has deep green, lance-shaped leaves, and produces attractive, fragrant, pink to mauve, dome-shaped inflorescenses at the tops of its stems. Its seed pods are narrow and around 3 inches long.

swamp milkweed (Asclepias incarnata)

Asclepias cryptoceras, or pallid milkweed, is a low-growing, drought-adapted, diminutive species that occurs in southwestern Idaho. It can be found in the Owyhee mountain range as well as in the Boise Foothills. It has round or oval-shaped leaves and produces flowers on a short stalk. The flowers have white or cream-colored petals and pink-purple hoods.

pallid milkweed (Asclepias cryptoceras)

The two remaining species are fairly rare in Idaho. Antelope horns (Asclepias asperula) is found in Franklin County located in southeastern Idaho. It grows up to two feet tall with an upright or sprawling habit and produces clusters of white to green-yellow flowers with maroon highlights. Horsetail milkweed (Asclepias subverticillata) occurs in at least two counties in central to southeastern Idaho and is similar in appearance to A. fascicularis. Its white flowers help to distinguish between the two. Additional common names for this plant include western whorled milkweed and poison milkweed.