Hubert

In the front yard there is a large patch of clover. Boasting three leaves each and a vibrant green hue, these little plants make me wish I was a kid again and could roll through the leaves without worrying about how I looked. It happens to be a favorite spot for Karis, too. There are clover flowers scattered about intermittently, and she loves to pick them and offer them to me. Last week Karis and I had been out in the clover patch, and when we came inside I found she had been chewing on one of the stems. While I always assumed they were clover plants, I also knew I wasn't sure. I called poison control to be sure. They suggested I head to Lowe's to find someone to identify the plant, just to be on the safe side. And as annoying as the whole scenario was, I knew I liked living "on the safe side" of things.

With dinner roasting away in the oven, Karis and I piled in the car and headed to Lowe's. With clover in hand as evidence, I first asked the cashier in the garden section to identify it. She was young and foreign and didn't know (or seem to care). She pointed me to customer service inside. There I met a man who insisted on telling me over and over that the mold on the clover was something called "brown spots." I politely repeated multiple times that I wasn't there to find out how to get rid of the mold on the clover, I was there to identify the clover. Still, after three attempts, he led me to the pesticide aisle. I clearly stated my intention one.more.time.

"Oh, you want to talk to Hubert!"

Yes. For the love of all things good and pure, PLEASE take me to Hubert.

Back out to the garden section we headed, Karis giggling in my arms showing no sign of ill effect for eating the mystery plant. The worker led me to the very back corner where it was dark and spooky. I imagine the worst of Lowe's crimes happen back there. Plant abuses and interrogations of all sorts. (Shudder) I waited at the end of the aisle where it was well-lit as the young employee disappeared into the darkness.

"Hubert?" he called. I heard low voices and a brief explanation.

Then...out of the dark shadows emerged my hero, Hubert.

Gray hair and a deep tan, he looked promising. He was a man in his 50's who looked like he knew a thing or two about the outdoors. The lines on his face and swiftness of his gait spoke of no nonsense authority, which is just what I was looking for.

Hubert took one look at the plant in my hand and proclaimed it clover. He removed his glasses and looked at me with a suspicious look when I explained I needed to know for certain since my daughter chewed and perhaps ate some of it. He glanced at Karis in my arms, and I saw the grandfatherly look come over his face. He smiled and said, "Well, let's just be sure it's clover." Hubert then led me to a large manual, a virtual Lowe's garden bible. And off he went searching through the big book to allay the fears of the young mom standing before him.

Clover it was. And thankful I was...for Hubert, and for his big "bible," and that our dinner (and our house) weren't burned when we returned home.