My capacity for nurturing seems to be more limited than what is sometimes ascribed to those of the feminine persuasion. To my credit, I have managed to keep my beloved children fed and cared for���one all the way to the magic age of 18, theoretical threshold of adulthood. But that���s about the extent of it. I have nothing left over to compel me to willingly care for other dependents of the animal or plant variety. And never, ever upon a run-in with a baby, do I wish myself back to that stage of 24/7 nurturing.

So you can imagine my surprise when I found myself voluntarily gardening in the rain today. I can count on one hand the number of times I���ve gardened in the sunshine, so this was just bizarre. Except that it wasn���t.

I didn���t set out to garden in the rain which is probably much of the beauty of it. I have a hard time with spontaneity. I really like to have a plan and stick to it. And I usually don���t appreciate nature raining on my parade. Except that today I didn���t mind.

Lest you think this was a bliss fest, I���ll confess that when I first starting working (pre-rain), there was a lot of negative self-talk. I was trying to coax my burgeoning tomato plants back into their wire cages. Because of my aforementioned lack of gardening expertise, I kept breaking the plants���hurting them instead of helping them. I could hear the nay sayer in my head chirping, ���Why are you out here? You���re not a gardener. You���ll never be a gardener. You were silly to think you could keep this little vegetable kingdom alive without your green thumbed husband. Give it up.��� Except that today I didn���t.

Then, just as I���d figured out that my carefully lifting the wire cages out of the dirt a few inches, I could ease the plant back into the safe confines of the cage, the rain started. The voice loved this. ���Well, now you have to go inside. Gig���s up.��� Except it wasn���t.

Instead of listening to this seemingly logical advice to go inside, to stay safe and dry, I kept working, lifting cage after cage until all the tiny tomatoes were safe from the birds who covet them. By then I was soaked, and against all reason, I was happy���wet, dirty and content and happy. I felt oddly right in a one-with-nature sort of way, tending the soil while the rain watered it.

I used to say I wasn���t a gardener. Now I add, except for in the rain.

I���d love to hear about how doing things in unconventional ways has felt right to you. Can���t think of anything? Today try something illogical, irrational and completely unexpected and let me know how it works for you!