They're doing all this road work right now, so it took us over an hour today to get to the big flea market in Bromont. To help pass the time, we played that old family favourite, "Name That Roadkill."

(And don't be yelling at me about this, 'kay, because I'm the kind of driver who swerves for frogs and toads for cryin' out loud. However, once something is dead, I reserve my right to indulge in my ability to be easily amused. So there.)

Now where was I? Oh yeah ...

Because my long distance sight is a bit better that Paul's, I'm proud to report that I won the preliminary round. Where he gets me every time, though, is with the older, squished-flatter-than-a-pancake stuff.

All those years of riding a country school bus when he was a kid pay off at this point. He can tell your groundhog road pizza from your porcupine road pizza much more quickly than I can.

It's just one of his many special gifts.

Another of his special gifts is that he has the ability to hunt and gather plants for my gardens. He brought home a box of this wonderful stuff on Saturday after collecting payment from one of his clients. She was fussing about how it was crowding her azalea and Paul offered right then and there to dig up and cart off her excess. She was delighted.

The problem here is that the woman who owned this plant can't remember what it's called. I can't find it in any of my gardening books. Zoinks!

If any of you can identify this mystery plant, which looks like an ivy but isn't, and which has a root system like oenthera (evening primrose), then could you drop me a word in my guestbook or by e-mail?

Please?