Nessa thinks about this, then realizes, she might be over thinking it. Cupping her hands around the single seed she has tucked into the potting soil, she leans in and whispers in a sing song voice,
"You say either and I say ether,
You say neither and I say nether,
Either, ether, neither, nyther,
Let's call the whole thing off!
You like potato and I like potahto,
You like tomato and I like tomahto,
Potato, potahto, tomato, tomahto!
Let's call the whole thing off!"
Thinking as she does about the taste of tomatoes, not the bland hot-house varieties or the unripe, hard grocery store offerings. No, a garden fresh tomato, that smells of growing green vines and tastes of summer sun. And hopes that the little seed might grow...