it’s all in the perception
Bare hands in black dirt, a good thing. Sinking seeds deep or dusting them gently as required satisfied some ancient gardener gene from who knows where, for I was raised mostly without gardens. A past-life thing, my Taurus South Node, or merely the romance of it all a la Green Acres (‘shoosting up into the air’).
The first thing I noticed when I went to the garden was a furtive brown form darting away at my approach, which triggered an immediate atavistic reflex. Intruder alert! Kill the enemy! Though normally adorable, that rabbit sprouted vampire fangs in my mind’s eye.