Idaho’s Native Milkweeds (Updated)

As David Epstein said in an interview on Longform Podcast, “Any time you write about science, somethings is going to be wrong; the problem is you don’t know what it is yet, so you better be ready to update your beliefs as you learn more.” Thanks to the newly published Guide to the Native Milkweeds of Idaho by Cecilia Lynn Kinter, lead botanist for Idaho Department of Fish and Game, I’ve been made aware of some things I got wrong in the first version of this post. I appreciate being corrected though, because I want to get things right. What follows is an updated version of the original post. The most substantial change is that there are actually five milkweed species native to Idaho rather than six. Be sure to check out Kinter’s free guide to learn more about this remarkable group of plants.

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Concern for monarch butterflies has resulted in increased 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 halting milkweed losses and restoring milkweed populations, will in turn provide habitat for countless other organisms. A patch of milkweed teems with life, and our pursuits to protect a single caterpillar invite us to 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 U.S. 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. Asclepias species found in southern Africa are considered by many to actually belong in the genus Gomphocarpus.

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 five native species. The most abundant 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. In fact, the monarch butterfly is Idaho’s state insect, thanks in part to the abundance of showy milkweed, which 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, which would otherwise allow 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. Pollination is successful when the pollen sacs are 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) occurs across western and southern Idaho. Its distribution continues into 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. It’s a whispy plant that reaches one to three feet tall and occasionally taller. 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 narrowleaf milkweed (Asclepias fascicularis)

seeds escaping from the follicle of narrowleaf milkweed (Asclepias fascicularis)

Swamp or rose milkweed (Asclepias incarnata) is more common east of Idaho, but occurs occasionally in southwestern Idaho. As its common name 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 flower heads at the tops of its stems. Its seed pods are narrow and around 3 inches long.

swamp milkweed (Asclepias incarnata)

Asclepias cryptoceras ssp. davisii, or Davis’s milkweed, is a low-growing, drought-adapted, diminutive species that occurs in southwestern Idaho. 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. The range of Asclepias cryptoceras – commonly known as pallid milkweed or jewel milkweed – extends beyond Idaho’s borders into Oregon and Nevada, creeping north into Washington and south into California. Another subspecies – cryptoceras – can be found in Nevada, Utah, and their bordering states.

Davis’s milkweed (Asclepias cryptoceras ssp. davisii)

The final species is rare in Idaho, as Idaho sits at the top of its native range. Asclepias asperula ssp. asperula, or spider milkweed, has a single documented location in Franklin County (southeastern Idaho). Keep your eyes peeled though, because this plant may occur elsewhere, either in Franklin County or neighboring counties. 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. Its common name comes from the crab spiders frequently found hunting in its flower heads.

A sixth species, horsetail milkweed (Asclepias subverticillata), has been falsely reported in Idaho. Collections previously labeled as A. subverticillata have been determined to actually be the similar looking A. fascicularis.

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Selections from the Boise Biophilia Archives

For a little over a year now, I’ve been doing a tiny radio show with a friend of mine named Casey O’leary. The show is called Boise Biophilia and airs weekly on Radio Boise. On the show we each take about a minute to talk about something biology or ecology related that listeners in our local area can relate to. Our goal is to encourage listeners to get outside and explore the natural world. It’s fascinating after all! After the shows air, I post them on our website and Soundcloud page for all to hear.

We are not professional broadcasters by any means. Heck, I’m not a huge fan of talking in general, much less when a microphone is involved and a recording is being made. But Casey and I both love spreading the word about nerdy nature topics, and Casey’s enthusiasm for the project helps keep me involved. We’ve recorded nearly 70 episodes so far and are thrilled to know that they are out there in the world for people to experience. What follows is a sampling of some of the episodes we have recorded over the last 16 months. Some of our topics and comments are inside baseball for people living in the Treasure Valley, but there’s plenty there for outsiders to enjoy as well.

Something you will surely note upon your first listen is the scattering of interesting sound effects and off the wall edits in each of the episodes. Those come thanks to Speedy of Radio Boise who helps us edit our show. Without Speedy, the show wouldn’t be nearly as fun to listen to, so we are grateful for the work he does.

Boise Biophilia logo designed by Sierra Laverty

In this episode, Casey and I explore the world of leaf litter. Where do all the leaves go after they fall? Who are the players involved in decomposition, and what are they up to out there?

 

In this episode, Casey gets into our region’s complicated system of water rights, while I dive into something equally complex and intense – life inside of a sagebrush gall.

 

In this episode, I talk about dead bees and other insects trapped and dangling from milkweed flowers, and Casey discusses goatheads (a.k.a. puncture vine or Tribulus terrestris) in honor of Boise’s nascent summer celebration, Goathead Fest.

 

As much as I love plants, I have to admit that some of our best episodes are insect themed. Their lives are so dramatic, and this episode illustrates that.

 

The insect drama continues in this episode in which I describe how ant lions capture and consume their prey. Since we recorded this around Halloween, Casey offers a particularly spooky bit about garlic.

 

If you follow Awkward Botany, you know that one of my favorite topics is weeds. In this episode, I cover tumbleweeds, an iconic western weed that has been known to do some real damage. Casey introduces us to Canada geese, which are similar to weeds in their, at times, overabundance and ability to spawn strong opinions in the people they share space with.

 

In this episode, I explain the phenomenon of marcescence, and Casey gives some great advice about growing onions from seed.

 

And finally, in the spring you can’t get by without talking about bulbs at some point. This episode is an introduction to geophytes. Casey breaks down the basics, while I list some specific geophytes native to our Boise Foothills.

 

Field Trip: Orton Botanical Garden

In the inaugural year of this blog, I wrote a short post about a visit to Plantasia Cactus Gardens, a botanical garden in Twin Falls, Idaho that specializes in cold hardy cactus and other succulents. I finally made a return visit all these years later (thanks to a co-worker who organized the trip). Back in 2013, the garden was private but open to the public by appointment. Today, the garden is still open by appointment but is now a 501(c)(3) non-profit organization with a new name: Orton Botanical Garden.

With the name change and non-profit status comes a new mission statement. The garden has been an impressive display of cold hardy cactus and succulents along with native and drought-tolerant plants for many years now. It has also long been a resource for educating visitors on the importance of these plants, as well as the importance of water conservation through water efficient landscaping. So the mission statement isn’t necessarily a new direction, but rather an affirmation of what this garden has done so well for years. Few gardens are doing cold hardy, drought-tolerant plants at the level that Orton Botanical Garden is.

Many of the plants at Orton Botanical Garden are made available to the public for purchase through an annual plant sale in May, as well as through an online store. This is another great service because sourcing some of these plants is not easy, and this one of the few places they can be found for sale.

Wherever you live in the world, this is a garden that should be on your bucket list. Even at a mere 5 acres in size, one could easily spend hours exploring it, and each visit reveals something new. What follows is just a small sampling of the things you will find there.

Toroweap hedgehog (Echinocereus coccineus var. toroweapensis)

scarlet hedgehog (Echinocereus coccineus var. coccineus)

White Sands kingcup cactus (Echinocereus triglochidiatus var. triglochidiatus)

Orcutt’s foxtail cactus (Escobaria orcuttii var. koenigii)

a peak down a shallow gully flanked by cholla (Cylindropuntia spp.)

Colorado hookless cactus (Sclerocactus glaucus)

Fremont’s mahonia (Mahonia fremontii)

close up of Fremont’s mahonia (Mahonia fremontii)

spiny pillow (Ptilotrichum spinosum)

hairstreak on cliff fendlerbush (Fendlera rupicola)

Utah sweetvetch (Hedysarum boreale)

Several species of buckwheats were in bloom, including this Railroad Canyon buckwheat (Eriogonum soliceps).

There were also quite a few penstemon species blooming, like this sidebells penstemon (Penstemon secundiflorus).

More Awkward Botany Field Trips:

Tiny Plants: Idahoa

This is a post I wrote three years ago as a guest writer for a blog called Closet Botanist. That blog has since dissolved, hence the re-post.

This year, we returned to the location in the Boise Foothills where I encountered the plant that inspired this post. I found what might be seedlings of the tiny plant. If that’s the case, the phenology is a bit delayed compared to three years ago. I’ll check again in a week or so. Until then, meet Idahoa.

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I have taken a real liking to tiny plants. So many of the plants we regularly interact with are relatively big. Large trees loom above us. Tall shrubs greet us at eye level. Flowering perennials come up around our knees or higher. But how often do we get down low and observe the plants that hug the ground or that reach just a few centimeters above it? Turf grass is ubiquitous and groundcovers are common, but among such low growing plants (or plants kept low), even more diminutive species lurk.

It was a hunt for a tiny plant that sent me down a certain trail in the Boise Foothills earlier this spring. Listening to a talk by a local botanist at an Idaho Native Plant Society meeting, I learned about Idahoa scapigera. A genus named after Idaho!? I was immediately intrigued. Polecat Gulch was the place to see it, so off I went.

Commonly known as oldstem idahoa, flatpod, or Scapose scalepod, Idahoa scapigera is the only species in its genus. It is an annual plant in the mustard family, which means it is related to other small, annual mustard species like Draba verna. It is native to far western North America and is distributed from British Columbia down to California and east into Montana. It occurs in a variety of habitat types found in meadows, mountains, and foothills.

Idahoa scapigera is truly tiny. Before it flowers, it forms a basal rosette of leaves that max out at about 3 centimeters long. Next it sends up several skinny flower stalks that reach maybe 10 centimeters high (some are much shorter). One single flower is born atop each stalk. Its petite petals are white and are cupped by red to purple sepals. Its fruit is a flat round or oblong disk held vertically as though it is ready to give neighboring fruits a high five. Happening upon a patch of these plants in fruit is a real joy.

Which brings me to my hunt. It was the morning of March 20th (the first day of Spring) when I headed down the Polecat Gulch trail in search of Idahoa, among other things. The trail forms a loop around the gulch and is about 6 miles long with options for shortening the loop by taking trails that cut through the middle. I have yet to make it all the way around. Stopping every 10 yards to look at plants, insects, and other things makes for slow hiking.

I was about a half mile – 1 hour or more – into the hike when Idahoa entered my view. A group of them were growing on the upslope side of the trail, greeting me just below waist level. Many of them had already finished flowering and had fresh green fruits topping their thin stalks. At this location they are a late winter/early spring ephemeral. I made a mental note of the site and decided to return when the fruits had matured. Next year, I will head out earlier in hopes of catching more of them in flower.

On the way to Idahoa, I noted numerous other small, green things growing in the sandy soil. It turns out there are countless other tiny plants to see and explore. It got me thinking about all the small things that go unnoticed right underneath our feet or outside of our view. I resolved to move slower and get down lower to observe the wonders I’ve been overlooking all this time.

Further Reading:

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.

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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.

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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.

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.

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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)

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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.