Just when it looks like everything is going dormant for winter, up pops this little beauty. It is saffron crocus, source of world’s most expensive seasoning. Saffron is actually easy to grow, but the painstaking harvest of those red, thread-like filaments accounts for the price. They are the pistils–the female reproductive parts of the plants. The shorter, fatter bits are the stamens, covered with yellow pollen.

Saffron crocus are the backwards plants: opposite of everything else in the garden. The leaves come up in the fall and flowers open in October and November. The leaves remain green all winter and then vanish in the spring. Saffron crocus are well adapted to hot, dry summers and are the perfect complement to any xeriscape.

There are other fall blooming crocuses, but saffron—Crocus sativa—is the only one with the amazing flavor.

Nothing lights up the fall garden like Asters. Most asters are designed by nature to bloom in the fall, although some buck the trend and bloom in the spring.
Asters are part of the much larger Aster family, which includes Sunflowers, Daises, Dandelions and many others. The fascinating thing about most plants in this family is that each individual flower is composed of two different kinds of flowers–the ones that look like petals around the outside and the tiny ones that together make up the central eye. Next time you see an Aster, take a close look and see if you can see the mini-flowers in the middle.

There are many reasons to love buckwheats–this year at Draggin’ Wing we grew fifteen(!) different ones. I love them because they make for reliable landscape plants in a low water garden, they bloom at different times and they are beautiful. 
Another reason to love buckwheats is that for a number of butterfly species they are a crucial source of food for developing larvae as well as nectar for adults. The butterfly in the photo is a Square-spotted or a Dotted Blue and it is feeding on Strict Buckwheat in a local garden. Buckwheats seem to have a special relationship with blues, hairstreaks and metalmarks, all smallish but beautiful butterflies.
So, if you want more butterflies in your garden, plant buckwheats!
Photo: Andy Smith

Most of our display gardens are watered with drip, but this section has never had any irrigation at all. Over the 15 years since it was planted, this area has evolved and new plants have come in. It started with sagebrush, rabbitbrush and bitterbrush–the ‘big three’ of our lower foothills. Later, using the shade of these shrubs, I planted one small mormon tea and a couple of buckwheats–sulfur and arrowleaf. Over the years two more buckwheats–strict and whorled–have shown up on their own, along with narrowleaf milkweed, several globemallows and seedlings of the nearby netleaf hackberry and gambel oak trees.
Elsewhere at Draggin’ Wing we have fernbush, Fremont’s mahonia, littleleaf mountain mahogany, fernleaf yarrow, goldenrod, catmint and a few other sturdy plants happily growing without water. I think at this point most of our established shrubs really don’t need irrigation.
A totally no-water landscape might be considered the gold standard of xeriscaping. Without irrigation you definitely limit the variety of plants you can grow, but these experiments demonstrate that–with the right plants–it can be done! 

A hike yesterday at Little City of Rocks near Gooding turned out to be a beautiful walk in Biscuit Root Country.
Biscuit Roots, or Lomatium, are a large group of highly medicinal and edible plants that have been used for centuries by native Americans. Some species of Lomatium were commonly used as food staples, thus the name Biscuit Root.
The plants are most famous for their miracle result in curing members of the Nevada Washoe tribe during the virulent 1918 flu epidemic. The tribe used the root of the particular Lomatium in this photo to treat members who fell sick with the disease and not a single patient died. Many consider Lomatiums to be extremely potent anti-virals, and tinctures are available–but they have not been embraced by mainstream medicine.
Lomatiums are a large genus of plants that typically grow in hot, dry regions of the West. One of the most recent additions to the group, and one that grows in the Boise foothills, is Andrus’ Lomatium, named in honor of our former Governor Cecil Andrus.

Our state flower, Syringa or Lewis’ Mock Orange, is about to come into bloom. This photo, taken in another year along Rocky Canyon Road, shows Syringa in is full glory.
One noteworthy aspect of our State plant is that it is a great choice for a firewise landscape due to its high soap, or saponin, content. Observing this, native peoples employed the bark and leaves of Syringa in soap-making. Several other garden plants, including Soapworts (Saponaria) and Baby’s Breath (Gypsophilia) contain saponins, and they are all fire-resistant.
Saponins are used in modern fire extinguishers–its what creates the foam.
The botanical name for Syringa is Philadelphus lewisii, in honor of Meriwether Lewis who wrote about the plant in his journal.

The Chokecherries are in bloom!
Chokecherries are one of our most widespread, accommodating and easy to grow native shrubs. They occur almost everywhere across the US and Canada, including the Boise foothills and my backyard–where they grow happily with no supplemental water at all.
With their prolific production of small white flowers on drooping racemes, chokecherries support a variety of pollinators– bumblebees, honeybees and others. The fruit that follows is worth tasting, if only to excite curiosity about how the cherries were actually turned into a palatable food source for people. Native folks tended to pair it with dried meat while Europeans went with sugar.
One caveat about growing chokecherries: after it reaches a certain age, the plant tends to send up suckers and can form a colony. That is great for a pollinator habitat garden on the wild side, less so for a carefully manicured landscape.

Morrison’s Bumble Bee came to my attention today in two ways. First, this photo–which I posted on inaturalist last August along with a tentative identification–was confirmed today as truly being Morrison’s Bumble Bee. Second, I read the news that made this sighting all the more precious: the US Fish & Wildlife Service is now considering Morrison’s Bumble Bee for protection under the Endangered Species Act. Numbers have declined by up to 75% and the bee has completely disappeared across much of its range.
According to the Xerces Society, “The Morrison bumble bee historically occurred across much of the western U.S. . . . in grasslands, sagebrush steppe, and woodland edges. It has co-evolved with local plants for thousands of years and is a super-pollinator, contributing to the stability of our wildlands and agricultural systems.” The bee’s decline is attributed to the usual culprits–“habitat loss and degradation, overgrazing, climate change, pesticides, diseases, and competition with honey bees.”
What can we do? Other than not using pesticides (please!), just plant more flowering plants. The bee in my photo is on Rocky Mountain Bee Plant, a fabulous native annual. Bumble bees use all kinds of flowering plants, including milkweed.
In case you like to take photos of plants and animals, check out inaturalist. It is a fun way to engage with the natural world and with other like-minded folks. Upload photos of any living thing, suggest an identity or allow inaturalist to do that for you. For me, this is a fun way to learn more about everything!

By way of Winter Solstice Greetings, I send you a photo taken last summer of mistletoe at Bogus Basin. Well, you can’t actually see the mistletoe, only the evidence of mistletoe. Parasitic mistletoe has been robbing the upper part of this poor Douglas Fir of nutrients while at the same time stimulating the lower section of the tree to produce a thick mass of extra branching. The thick growth is called Witches Broom and it is the easiest way to spot a mistletoe infection. Which means this is also a belated Halloween greeting!
We have several native species of mistletoe in Idaho. The one you can’t see in the photo is very picky and only attacks Doug Firs. Other conifers get their own special mistletoes.
Classic mistletoe–the kind you kiss under–is of course from Europe. Our native species–know as “dwarf mistletoes”–aren’t very useful for Christmas decor as they don’t have leaves or cute berries. They do, however, produce seeds which when ripe explosively catapult out into the forest. They can fly up to 40 feet and, because they are covered with glue, they will stick to anything. If a seed lands on the right tree, it will germinate and produce roots that drill into the tree and start growing.
Perhaps you have noticed logging at Bogus Basin in recent years. Mistletoe damage is serious there, mostly on Doug Firs but also on some Ponderosas. The Forest Service has been working on removing the most compromised trees with a long-term plan to improve overall forest health.
I wish them the best of luck and to you a happy new year!

Hiking recently in the foothills around Bogus Basin, I came across stands of Fireweed in seed, putting on a striking fall display. These patches remind me that beauty in the garden can come from many sources–flowers, of course, but also the structure of stems, the architecture of leaves and, as in this case, a profusion of seedheads. The seeds of Fireweed are incredibly tiny. Each one of the fluffy little tufts holds hundreds of them, and they will soon be drifting across the mountainside ready to catch, settle and create a new stand Fireweed.

As you may know, I love buckwheats. This one, Lacy Buckwheat (Eriogonum corymbosum), is the largest in our demo gardens. Typically a plant of the red rock country of Southern Utah and Northern Arizona, it grows well here but is largely unknown and unused in S. Idaho. More’s the pity, as it blooms stunningly in the fall and leaves behind a dense, branchy mound for winter interest.
Buckwheats attract a wide variety of pollinators. I can see many different bees along with various flies, beetles, wasps and other tiny unidentified (by me) bugs. Planting buckwheats for spring, summer and fall will bring a lot of life into the garden!

Fall is my favorite time to plant. Why?
Whenever a plant is removed from a pot and stuck in the ground it endures a certain level of transplant shock. When planted in the fall, the traumatized plant has all of the remaining weeks of fall plus the winter to settle in and recover. The stress of summer heat is over, roots will grow, and by spring the plant will be ready to face the challenge of the following summer.
On top of that, at Draggin’ Wing we have plenty of plants available in the fall. Most of them sprouted from tiny seeds in the early spring and they have been growing on all summer. Now they are ready for the next step–a new home in the ground.
Planting tip: When you buy a perennial the part of the plant you really care about is the root system. At planting time, it’s almost never a bad idea to cut the top back a bit–or a lot–to reduce stress on the root system.

This mass of showy red flowers is a major hummingbird magnet right now at the nursery. Standing Cypress is an odd name for this biennial from Texas, closely related to our nearby–but smaller–native biennial, Scarlet Gilia. As biennials, these plants flower only in their second year. After flowering, they will produce prodigious quantities of seed and die. Next year these seeds will sprout into the non-flowering first-year plants. So in order to assure flowers every year, plant Standing Cypress two years in a row. Like self-sowing annuals, biennials are a bit of a pain, since they move around from year to year. But the long-lasting explosion of flowers makes it all worthwhile!
 

I’ve always been aware that Purple Prairie Clover (Dalea purpurea) is a good pollinator plant, but this summer I have been amazed by the numbers of bumblebees converging on these plants. The tiny flowers are arranged in rings, like miniature tutus, surrounding the thimble-shaped flower head. As the ring moves upward from bottom to top with fresh flowers opening each day, the bumblebees return again and again to forage.
Purple Prairie Clover is native to the great plains. As a legume, it fixes nitrogen and therefore benefits the ecosystem as a whole. With deep taproots, the plants are reliably long-lived and drought tolerant.

This photo shows one variation on a new Draggin’ Wing gardening concept we call “Xeric Tapestry”. A combination of low and mid-size, mostly evergreen plants grow into a densely-packed, ultimately low-maintenance, weed-free carpet of beauty.
Each Xeric Tapestry will be different, depending on the combination plants that is used. This one contains–among other things–Hidcote lavender, dwarf salvia, partridge feather, prostrate germander and various sedums.
The dense carpet of plants stops weed seeds from blowing in, reaching the soil and germinating. However, thorough weeding initially and for the first two or three years is necessary while the carpet is coming together.

This lovely rock garden is just one part of a stunning overall landscape created by plant enthusiasts Sue and Andy. In this spot they have used a variety of small cacti and yuccas along with buckwheats, various little groundcovers and mounding perennials to beautiful effect. Kennedy’s Buckwheat, a California native, plays a starring role.
Rocks and boulders can enhance almost any xeriscape. They create niches, protection and micro-climates, plus they funnel rain water right to the plants tucked beneath.

I love it when customers are able to share photos of their beautiful gardens. Michael, a skilled photographer, has been buying plants regularly for several years and has landscaped several different areas of his yard. Here is one inspiring example. Thank you Michael!
The nursery is off and running for spring. There is a small window this time of year when new seedlings kick in and grow vigorously before settling down to survive the summer.

Spring is here, and the lower foothills are popping with early blooming flowers. This one, Woolly Pod Milkvetch, or Pursh’s Astragalus, is one of my favorites. Notice them along the edges of trails right at your feet. In a few weeks, notice again and you will see the inflated, woolly seedpods that give the plant its common name.
I would love to be able to grow some kind of Milkvetch in my garden, but that hasn’t worked so far. However, some beautiful native plants need to just be admired in the places they grow naturally.

Landscapes can look pretty dreary in winter, so it is great when we find native and xeric plants that are evergreen. Mormon Tea, that big ball of twiggy green stems, is a fabulous year-round foundation shrub. Its little buddy on the left is one of the many western US yuccas that also look good in winter.
Mormon Tea has a rich history of use as a medicinal and a strong stimulant by native peoples of the Mountain West as well as Mormon settlers. You could brew yourself a cup of Mormon Tea, but I’ve heard that it will probably keep you awake–even more than caffeine.
Like pines and spruces, Mormon Tea is a conifer because it produces cones along those green stems, not flowers. Mormon Tea and its relatives are sometimes call “Joint Firs” because the green stems are punctuated with small nodes, which is where the little cones poke out. The appearance is similar to another ancient plant, water-loving Horsetail.

Boise City Parks and Rec has been busy creating pollinator gardens in several city parks. This new one is located at the south end of Quinn’s Pond. We all love to see honeybees on our flowers, but it is important to remember that there are many native bees–nearly 4,00 species in North America–who also benefit from pollinator gardens.
The little bee box behind the sign is full of small tubes for the 30% of native bees, like leafcutters and mason bees, that nest in tunnels. About 70% of native bees, including most bumblebees, are ground nesters. For them, open space between plants is habitat.

Sunflowers are in full bloom right now, attracting hoards of bumblebees and other pollinators. The annual sunflower, shown here, makes a wonderful addition to a less formal xeric garden–one in which you don’t mind finding a crop of new seedlings every year. Annual sunflowers are incredibly drought-tolerant, especially if they sow themselves. In addition they attract finches and other birds who dine on the tasty seeds.
These annual sunflowers are the parents of myriad ornamental cultivars of different colors and sizes.
But annuals are only part of the story. There are about 70 different species of sunflowers, mostly native to N. America. Many of them are perennials, like Maximilian’s Sunflower–which we have been offering for some years. This year we are experimenting with two new perennial sunflowers–Western Sunflower and Dwarf Sunflower. Dwarf Sunflower (Helianthus pumilus) is native to parts of Idaho, Montana and Colorado and Western Sunflower (Helianthus occidentalis) is native not to the West, but to drier areas in the East and Midwest. Go figure.

This cheerful little annual, Desert Bluebells (Phacelia campanularia), has just come into full bloom and is attracting a variety of bees and other pollinators. I threw out the seed for this plant last fall aiming to enhance pollinator habitat around the nursery throughout the summer. Like most annuals, this Phacelia should bloom all summer.
For those just establishing a perennial xeriscape, incorporating one or two annual flowers is a great way of filling in open spots while the larger perennials are slowly growing in. If the annuals reseed freely, they may come back next year on their own, or they may be gradually crowded out by the expanding perennials. I think it is a great way to get a jump start on creating a pollinator paradise in your yard.
Please note: the nursery will be open with regular hours this week and next. After that, we’ll be open only by appointment until reopening for the month of September.

Hiking in the foothills last weekend, I noticed yellow flowers poking out from a leafless Hackberry tree. Coming closer, I saw a healthy Golden Currant growing up within the arms of the still dormant Hackberry. What’s going on?
Golden Currants are very widespread in the lower foothills, but they do not typically grow all by themselves on hot, dry hillsides. In this case, the currant–no doubt planted by a bird–was able to get established in the protective shade of the Hackberry, its ‘nurse tree’.
This example shows how currants (and other native plants) can be extremely tough and xeric if they are lucky enough to be nursed along through their first vulnerable year or two of growth.
On the same hike I saw other Golden Currants growing in the shade of Bitterbrush. Keep an eye out when you are hiking, you may see other ‘nurse tree’ or ‘nurse bush’ situations.

Recently, I wrote about some plants that are generalists in the sense that they have the ability to survive in a variety of environments, including our gardens. Other plants are more like specialists. These seem to thrive only under certain conditions–special soil, special elevation, special companion plants and so forth. And some plants act like specialists in the sense that they do fine in the wild but die if you try to grow them in a nursery pot.
From a grower’s perspective, there a number of such tricky, difficult native plants–including these beautiful lupines, which thrive in our lower foothills. I know folks would love to see them in their home landscapes–along with other desirable natives such as Arrowleaf Balsamroot, Paintbrush, native Phloxes and Milkvetches. I have tried and failed to grow all of these!
Perhaps others have succeeded where I have failed, but for now I accept that there are some plants that I won’t try to grow but will simply appreciate whenever I see them in the wild.

Some plants respond to cold weather in beautiful ways. The woolly thyme in this photo from my front yard is especially striking when it turns purple in winter. Come spring, the foliage will gradually shift back to a beautiful soft gray-green. As shown in the photo, it is fun to combine different types of creeping thyme–and there are many–to highlight contrasting winter colors.
Evergreen groundcovers are among my favorite landscape plants, often great replacements for lawn.
The dark green at the top is an evergreen/groundcover penstemon–Davidson’s.

Having just finished a book about plant and animal adaptation, or non-adaptation, to climate change, I have been thinking about the ability certain plant species to survive, even thrive, when the environment is radically changed. Specifically, when we move plants from high to low.

Many of the Penstemons that we grow are naturally higher-elevation plants, and many of them simply refuse to grow reliably down here in the valley. But a few, like Lovely Penstemon (Penstmon venustus), have proven to be adaptable and long-lived in local landscapes.

But why? Why has Lovely Penstemon evolved to be able to withstand environmental variability or disruption? This, to me, is one of the intriguing mysteries of gardening. Each time I discover one of Idaho’s beautiful mountain plants and find that it succeeds in our (arguably hostile) low-elevation environment—that is a moment of revelation. And even hope for the future!

A recent article by local birder and conservationist Terry Rich inspires me to speak out (again) for Sagebrush. As you may know, there has been a stunning and tragic decline in North American songbird populations over the last 50 years. These declines are analyzed by habitat type. The data shows that birds of the Western Forests have not declined seriously, but ‘Aridland’ bird populations have plummeted, by about 25%. These are the birds of our dominant native landscape, the Sagebrush Steppe.

If you are new to the Intermountain West, the Sagebrush desert may strike you as desolate, uninhabited. But a healthy Sagebrush ecosystem supports a huge variety of fauna and flora: badgers and pronghorn, lizards and toads, grasses and flowers, a wealth of insects. And birds—hawks, sparrows, flycatchers and meadowlarks—many songbirds plus the iconic Greater Sage-Grouse.

It’s easy to love the beautiful flowering plants of our gardens. Harder, perhaps, to love Sagebrush—until you see it as the anchor, the rock on which so many other species rely. So, here’s to Sagebrush and a healthy New Year!

Creeping Oregon Grape, Mahonia repens, is one of our most versatile and useful native plants for landscaping. Its evergreen leaves settle into deep reddish-purple in winter, and when spring comes it erupts with a flush of cheerful yellow flowers.
Mahonia repens is a quite common in the upper foothills. There it grows mostly in the forest, tolerating deep shade–but the plants are small and don’t flower a lot. Oddly, this native develops into a much larger, showier specimen down here in the valley, happy in sun or shade.
Because of its compact proportions (2′ x 2′ or so) Mahonia repens has many uses in a landscape. You may be familiar with a much larger Oregon Grape, Mahonia aquafolium, which is fairly common in yards and along the greenbelt. The big one can sometimes be a bit overwhelming. Both Mahonias are admirably drought tolerant.
As winter approaches, my admiration for tough, evergreen plants skyrockets!

Regular nursery open hours are due to end in just two days, yet there are still so many beautiful plants in bloom! In this strange year–cold, with snow in May, then heat without a break all summer–the flowering time of many plants was delayed. Several plants are just now beginning to flower. But of course, no two years or seasons are alike or predictable. The magic is in growing plants that are flexible and resilient, plants that can put up with whatever our erratic and changing climate throws at them.

It’s Datura season at my house. In the mid to late summer this amazing plant begins producing giant trumpet-like flowers, sometimes a dozen or more on a single plant. Datura is famously hallucinogenic and poisonous but also incredibly alluring for honeybees.The flowers open just as dusk is falling and honeybees–who usually don’t stay out real late–get so excited that they try to squeeze their way in before the flower has actually opened up. It is fun to stand around and watch the flowers open, as you can see the petals twist and move in real time. The flowers last only one night and remain open for a while the next morning. Then they wilt and are replaced by a new crop of flowers the following evening.

I took this photo this morning of the oldest/upper part of our demonstration garden. Most of these plants have been here for 12 to 15 years. Last year, the drip watering system sprung a leak, which I didn’t manage to repair until sometime in July. The plants looked fine, and so the repair job took a back seat. In the end, the area got water only three times all summer.

Based on that experience, this year I postponed watering until early July and then watered once more in early August. Despite the persistent heat, the plants still mostly look fine. Frankly, I have been kind of amazed!

The lesson here seems to be that many of our plants can develop extreme heat and drought tolerance once they are well established.

Establishment is the key—and that takes time. As the plants in a low-water landscape grow, they put a lot of energy into their root systems—which can be massive. That is why many perennials appear to grow so slowly in the first year or two. Watering plants long and deep but infrequently encourages roots to go deep and find the water.

Sometimes a broken pipe or other accident can reveal new truths. This example demonstrates how extreme drought tolerance can develop over of many years. Patience!

As summer kicks into full gear, we begin hustling to gather seed at Draggin’ Wing Nursery. There are nearly 90 species on my seed collection list this year, most of which are available from plants now growing in the demonstration gardens.
The seed set on Curleaf Mountain Mahogany, above, is particularly spectacular this year. Probably thanks to those amazing spring rains. When a tree is loaded with seed like this, the whole plant can look like a giant ball of fuzz.
Attached to each seed is a long, furry tail. As the seed ripens, the tail begins to corkscrew. And when the seed eventually falls, the corkscrew can help to spin it right into the ground.
Curleaf Mountain Mahogany is a widespread native tree/shrub occurring in upland areas throughout southern Idaho as well as the West in general. One of its great assets as a landscape plant is that the leaves stay green all winter. It is an unusual creature: an evergreen tree that is not a pine, fir or spruce.

Over the years I continue to revise my thinking about what makes a great landscape plant. One of the first plants that I worked with when starting the nursery was ordinary Catmint, Nepeta mussinii. As much as I liked it, I realized that it seeded out freely and could be a troublesome invader. So I switched to a sterile type of Catmint, one that definitely would not overrun a garden.

However, as I observed ordinary Catmint spreading itself throughout my huge front yard, I noticed how beautifully long-blooming it is and how much it is visited by bees and other pollinators. The sterile form, on the other hand, didn’t bloom as long or enthusiastically and did not offer a lot for pollinators. I learned that when we choose plants for certain qualities (like good behavior), we may lose other benefits (like production of pollen and nectar).

Catmint is not appropriate for every landscape, but in the right setting it is a superstar!

If you have been hiking in the foothills or along the greenbelt recently, you have probably noticed lots of these little cages protecting tiny plants. They are part of the ongoing, city-led work to restore areas of native habitat.  As folks become aware that improving habitat is crucial to the long-term health of insects, fish and birds, volunteers have jumped in to help. Leading the effort to organize and recruit volunteers is our local chapter of the Audubon Society. It is exciting to see how a love of birds is translating naturally into a love of the native plants that support birds. To learn about a variety of projects underway and perhaps to become a volunteer, check out this information on the Audubon website: https://www.goldeneagleaudubon.org/restoration.

As spring is rapidly advancing, are you eager to check out some of the early blooming wildflowers in the Boise foothills? If so, take a look at Treasures of the Boise Front, an marvelously informative website created by botanist Barbara Ertter. You can find detailed descriptions of many foothills hikes, along with pictures and descriptions of native and non-native plants found along those hikes. One to look for right now is the endearing Sagebrush Buttercup.

Of the three ‘hot’ deserts in the western US (Sonoran, Mohave and Chihuhuan), the Sonoran is considered the most botanically diverse. Never having been there before, I recently drove south to see it

Ancient giant saguaros, pockmarked with the old holes of nesting birds, are almost other-worldly.  Agaves, from small to gigantic, form graceful, fat rosettes–many with dead  flowering stalks still towering above them. Sprawling prickly pears and fuzzy-looking chollas catch the sun.  Tall thin, spiny ocotillos wave in the breeze.  An amazing variety of trees– palo verde, ironwood, mesquite and others thrive in the hot lowlands, while various oaks, junipers, sycamore, manzanita and much, much more grow at higher elevations.

All in all, it is an amazing landscape, full of plants of amazing form and variety. I had hoped to see a few more spring flowers, but the winter has been dry and there was little color. Yet the beauty of the Sonoran Desert (like any great landscape) does not depend on colorful flowers alone.

Yuccas, like these in the Yucca corner of our demo gardens, provide a sharp accent of green in the gray of winter. This planting contains six different Yucca species, all native to the Western US. These plants are slow-growing, and none are old enough yet to produce their characteristic spike of white flowers.
Maybe you have noticed lots of rather floppy-looking dark green Yuccas around town.  Oddly, these common Boise yuccas (Yucca filamentosa, or ‘Adam’s Needle’) somehow arrived here from the Eastern U.S., where they are native. This is a shame, as they are a poor examples of an overwhelmingly beautiful group of landscape plants.
Western Yuccas are upright, stately and elegant. Although their native ranges are mostly south of Idaho, many of them are cold hardy enough for our climate. I used to think Yuccas were yucky—but not any more!