My gardening friends in other parts of the country have an excuse for doing nothing outside for months: It’s cold, and there’s snow on the ground.

My excuse? Harder to come by, since the fog has lifted nearly every day I have been off over the holiday season, and I haven’t ventured out into the back yard for longer than it takes to feed and water the chickens, and collect eggs.

Oh sure, I could have hustled up some T-posts and hauled out the simple wire fencing I’m planning for the garden expansion. And yes, I could have hauled out the post-hole digger and put in the recycled posts and chain-link gate I have set aside for the opening to the entire new garden-and-chicken area. It would have been good for me to get outside in the winter sun, put up the simple fencing and start planning for the raised beds.

Instead, I looked at seed catalogs online.

The garden I’m planning will be double the size, but only half the space will be in “production” at once. The other half will be for the chickens to roam, so they can produce nice loamy soil with their dropping and digging, along with the eventually breakdown of the hay and stray I put in their area for them to pick through. I’ve got a chicken gate planned, that will keep them in one space or the other, so they won’t pick the growing space clean of the greens they love. (I’ll be planting lots of greens — mustard, kale, collard, dandelion, etc. — for us all, but I would like for the plants to advance beyond the seedling phase, which they won’t with the chickens pecking at them.

As mentioned before, my garden used to be about tomatoes, and that was about it. I hate — hate — store-bought tomatoes, and although farmer’s market heirlooms aren’t bad, getting your own tomatoes fresh from your own garden is so wonderful that it actually might be illegal in some places.

But this year’s garden is my first that’s not just about what’s good but also about what’s good for me, and for the environment. It’s a three-season garden — maybe more, once I get the hang of it — that I hope will produce a great deal of what I eat from late spring on, and contribute to the diets of the pets, as well. (My dogs love steamed kale and sweet potatoes, which with organic local cottage cheese is usually their Sunday meal.)

I have no doubt that laziness is part of what’s keeping me inside, but then again, I am conscious that planning and research is a very important part of what I need to do, since I’ve never done it before. Growing the unglam veggies and planning for storage — freezing and drying, primarily — is all new. If I do it right, I’ll save money and fossil fuel. If I blow it, I’ll be driving to the grocery store.

So I’m plotting. And in this I’m not alone. I had to wait for some reserved books to become available at the library, and a book on susistence gardening I ordered was No. 624 on the Amazon ranking — a virtual best-seller.

I’ll get to the hard part soon enough. That post-hole digger can stay in the garage a while longer, I figure.

In the winter the gardener’s thoughts turn to seeds. Now, I’m pretty new to any kind of significant gardening — really, a few tomato plants has been about it for me in years past — this year I’m planning some major changes.

Starting with planting not just for flavor — I hate store-bought tomatoes — but for sustenance and sustainability. I’m doubling the size of my garden and planning to plant enough variety of fruits and vegetables that I can harvest entire meals from the plot. And preserve enough food — through freezing and drying, primarilly — that I can keep eating local all year around.

Heck, I might even try my hand at some simple canning.

But I’m also feeding more than the human family and friends. I’ll also be planting enough greens — of all varieties — to help feed the chickens, and to become part of the home-prepared meals I feed my dogs. (No, I won’t be home-growing the meat they get, not on a quarter-acre suburban lot any time soon!)

When the current run of storm passes us by, I’ll be fencing off the extra space (to keep the dogs out) and letting the chickens in to help de-weed, de-bug and fertilize the area. In keeping with the idea of re-using instead of buying new, I’ll be using a chain-link gate and posts I saved from some earlier yard changes, and then using simple T-posts and field fencing for the rest of the project. Again, the materials are being re-used from two years ago, when they were purchased as temporary fencing for a blown-down fence after a storm, and again used to fill a gap when more fence came down after the January 2008 storm.

For the raised beds I’m planning to re-use some old material as well. And to make it all look not-so-bad I’m planning lots of flowers. I’m hoping the look will be more eclectic than trashy, but either way I’m good with it.

While the rain keeps me from working outside, I’ve been working inside, planning the layout and thinking of the seeds I’ll be starting inside for later transplanting. (Another new endeavor, since I’ve always just bought plants from Talini’s.) I’ve been checking out open-source seeds from such sites as Seed Savers, and plan for much of what I grow to be of the heirloom variety.

It’s another big change from the way I’ve been doing things, but growing my own — and enough to save and to share — will help me eat in a way that’s better for me and for the environment.

No food miles when you’re talking about walking into your backyard to harvest.

Sometimes it seems that I’m spending the second half of my life discarding of most of what I collected during the first half of my life.  Of course, that’s really only true if I live to be 102, which  I probably won’t.

But the the pushing out of “stuff” — and the pushing back on keeping more stuff from coming in, continues without pause. I look at most everything I have — or have had — and I wonder what exactly was going through my mind when I first said, “Yeah, I gotta have that.”

The holidays are an odd time to think about not getting stuff, but really I’ve been working on not getting more stuff for years.

It doesn’t always go over well. For one thing, it’s rude to suggest how people should think of you, and perhaps even more rude to presume that they’re intending to give you a gift at all. When I started opting out of Christmas more than a decade ago, I didn’t tell anyone directly …. I just sort of tried to bring it up in conversation. “Hey, guess what? I don’t do gifts! Yeah, really!”

Slowly, most friends and family stopped giving, or started giving to good causes in my name.

But most doesn’t mean “all” and from some, the gifts keep coming.  Even from — or perhaps especially from — people who really can’t afford to be giving them.

I have a friend who is a wonderful shopper, with a keen eye for the most off-beat of items found in the most unusual of places. As money has gotten tight, I’ve asked him directly not to give me anything, but he’s the stubborn kind, so I know something’s coming. Last year it was a collection of rather clever little finds, most notably a couple cans of colorfully packaged mango juice with my first name — “Gina” — as the brand name.

Well, my gosh, where to start (except with “thank you!”)?

There’s the pollution involved in making and packing of the can (developing country with no pollution controls to speak of), and the cost of moving six ounces of juice halfway around the world. And then, given the concern over product contamination in the country of origin, I wasn’t about to actually open the can. So … what? I put it in the cupboard, where it will sit until I give it away (problematic), throw it away (also problematic) or die (well, not my problem in that case, but still … ).

Of course, it’s always about finding the balance, and trying harder to do what’s right. That’s why very little of the “stuff” that leaves does so by way of the trashcan, and I try very hard to find new uses, or simply new homes for everything. (Freecycle. Really. Best idea ever.)

That can of mango juice from last Christmas hasn’t had its final fate decided, but enough other “stuff” has moved out this month that on balance I’m well ahead of the came.

And I think some of it got recycled — or freecycled — into Christmas gifts. Which suits me just fine. Better the almost new than the newly packaged, from a green perspective, I say.

Going greener is both easier and harder than I ever could have imagined. Some choices were easily made, and stuck with no problem. Others involved considerable backsliding.

The biggest challenge?

The car.

I recycled. I hung out clothes to dry. I bought less. I ate locally, and mostly at home. I planted a vegetable garden and got hens for eggs and compost. I adjusted thermostats to save energy, swtiched to CFLs and used LEDs for holiday lighting. I even used recycled wrap for gifts.

But I never once gave up my car.

Oh, sure, I took a few bike rides in nice weather — to the library a couple of times, primarilly. I walked to the post office. And I consolidated errands, making lists so I wasn’t running up to the grocery story but once a week, instead of almost daily. I gave up drive-throughs. These are all good things.

But at the beginning of my first Year of LIving Greenly, I vowed to take public transportation more, or, well, at least once. And I never, ever did.

Why?

The time.

I have a bus that picks up a quarter-mile from my home and drops off a quarter-mile from my desk at work. That’s better than what a lot if not most people have access to. It even runs pretty regularly, since I live near a major boulevard, along a bus route that feeds into light rail.

But everytime I looked at the bus schedule, I realized that taking the bus would turn a 10-minute drive into a commute three times as long, and that didn’t count the walking on both ends.

I gotta be honest: That’s a lot of time to give up, in a very busy life. And that also leaves me without a car to run errands at lunch, as I often do.

Year Two, and what do I do? Be content with the fact that I live close and don’t drive much, and have done rather a lot of consolidate trips? Take the bike more often when time isn’t as critical, as on the weekends? Or take the bus now and then, figuring a little change is better than none at all?

The transportation issue will be a big one as I work through my second year to hold on to the improvements I’ve made in greener living, and bring even more change in permanently.

Gas and food prices are ugly. No surprise to anyone to read this. The green lining is that it does have me — and I’m guessing a lot of people — questioning the price of convenience.

• Convenience, as in taking your car everyday, especially if you work somewhere you have to pay to park, and especially if your employer will subsidize mass transit.
• Convenience, as in relying too much on take-away, whether’s it from the drivethrough or the supermarket counter.
• Convenience, as in using all those appliances that save time but use energy, everything from the clothes dryer to the food processor, when a clothesline and a sharp knife will do the job just fine.

As I’m coming to the end of the first “Year of Living Greenly” and starting another, I can see how roped in I have been by convenience, and how hard it is to give it up.

Some conveniences has proved easy, and extremely rewarding, to ditch. Giving up the convenience of take-away has made me realize that I like planning meals and even making them (although I still loathe cleaning up). Still not much of a cook, I tend to repeat simple and mostly veggie dishes, using meat sparingly not only because it’s better for the environment to eat less meat, but also because the preparation of meat is messier, and I’m lazy that way.

My dietary changes have been rewarding in another way, mentioned previously: I’ve lost a little weight, and my blood pressure has gone down — both items speak to take-away portions and salt, I suspect.

Without processed or take-away food, I’ve become more aware of food miles, choosing to support local farmers and eating in season. I have eggs from my own chickens, of course, but when shopping I look for foods almost as local and and certainly as organic. Fortunately, it’s not hard to find either here in Northern California. (You could have seen it all at Slow Food Nation last month in San Francisco, when seemingly every regional food producer turned up with samples.)

Still, with the recent economic turmoil, we’ll all aware of the importance of taking a good look at our budget, and the prices (although they seem to have come down recently at Bel Air/Raley’s and Whole Foods, the places I tend to shop) for organic and/or local still give one pause.

Part of the solution: The farmer’s market.

For a month now I’ve been hitting the local ones once or twice a week, and it’s a great time of year to get hooked on the good food and great deals. This is a supplement to the produce box I already get from Soil Born Farms, and an important addition, since I get to choose what goes into the Soil Born box. (With a CSA box, if you don’t like, say, eggplant, too bad.)

This morning at the farmer’s market, I got all the best of the season — tomatoes and stone fruits — plus the good greens that are available most the year round. Spent next to nothing — $35 — for a week’s worth of meals for me and the pets, and there will be plenty of trimmings to add to the food I give the hens.

It’s all good, but the biggest challenge to a greener life — for me, at least — remains as yet unchallenged: I just can’t get out of my car. I’ve looked at the routes and the schedules, but I still can’t uncouple from the convenience of getting in when I want and getting there, now.

I’m going to try, in October, at least a couple days a week.

Image: From Slow Food Nation, last month in San Francisco.

The center of the healthy, sustainable and just plain GOOD food universe is in San Francisco this weekend, with the Slow Food Nation convention in town Fri-Sun. What is “slow food”? It’s the stuff we used to eat, good ordinary food that game from places and people we knew, if not from our own backyard gardens and coops. No “food miles.” No petroleum-based fertilizers. No wondering what, exactly we were eating.

I’ll specifically be going to the “Climate Change and Food” session on Saturday, details here.

For more information on Slow Food — I’ve been a member for a couple years now — check out their main information site. And join the international movement for better, safer, more sustainable food for all! Save the world through eating …

Normal neighbors trade cups of sugar, or maybe catalogs. My neighbor Judy and I? We trade produce, hay and chickens. See, earlier this spring, when I got my first three chickens (there are currently 11*), my neighbor thought it was such a fun idea that she went to Western Feed and got six chicks to raise. (Being the rather lazy sort, I started with young adult hens.)

Fast forward a few months, and Judy and I both had a degree of disharmony in our respective flocks. So we decided to trade a couple of hens around to see if we could solve the problem. Her Lacy, a silver-laced Wyandotte, came to my house, and in return, I sent over Eulalie, a Cinnamon Queen, and Harriet, a Buff Orphington. So far, so good, with everyone getting along now.

Hay makes a great ground-cover for the chicken areas, since they will munch on it, it keeps down weeds and you can rake it up along with everything else and toss all into the compost pile, thus keeping down any problem with flies. Judy was out of hay, and I was out of tomatoes and basil.

So we traded. No fuel used, and we both got what we wanted … greenly. What a great, neighborly solution!

Media watch: Capital Public Radio food reporter Elaine Corn has been working on a piece on backyard chickens. She came out and talked to me about mine, in a piece that should air Thursday (Aug. 28). Listen for it, or check out the CPR Web site for more.

*Yes, they all have names: Agatha, Beatrice, Charlotte, Viviana, Paloma, Isabella, Hester, Hazel, Lacey, Nadine and Gladys. And yes, they’re legal!

This is my second year as a member of the local CSA project, Soil Born Farm. Every week I get a box of fresh fruits and vegetables from the Hurley Way location, which is near my home. I ate the tomatoes and peaches before I could get the camera out — so good!

Soil Born has a farm stand this year, and they’ve just announced expanded hours, Tuesday through Friday, 3 to 7 p.m. while the extra tomatoes last. Soil Born’s farm stand is at 2140 Chase Drive in Rancho Cordova, next to Hagan Park. After all the fresh tomatoes are sold, the stand will resume regular hours, 8 a.m. to 1 p.m. on Saturdays for the rest of the season.

A sampling of the goodies from this week’s CSA box, with the eggs I collected from my pet hens this morning:

Last month when it looked like nuclear winter around here because the smoke from wildfires blocked out the sun, I was pretty much trapped in my home. I worked at home for a couple of days, but the air quality was so bad I upped all my asthma medications and still found myself thinking about taking a trip to the emergency room.

As a lifelong asthmatic, I can attest that air quality is something that’s pretty important to me. I am the in the “sensitive groups” the air is unhealthy for on days like today.

To put it another way, I am the canary in your coal mine.

But as a person whose trying to live a “greener” life, these unhealthy days, which also often coincide with Spare the Air days, present me with a real conundrum.

On days like today, we should be walking, biking or taking public transportation, or possibly telecommuting. But what do you do if anything except driving to work in your car with all the windows up has the potential for putting you in the hospital?

I’ll tell you what you do: You drive.

But you make some choices, or at least *I* do. I put off errands I don’t have to run, until the air quality is better, and maybe I can even take my bike. (I extended the deadline on a couple of library books to allow this, and that’s easy to do online. ) I skipped running errands at lunch, and brought my lunch instead. And that grocery-store run after work? Not necessary today.

In all, I’ll put eight miles on my car today, and although it should be zero, I’m already a little ahead of the game because I’ve always chosen to live close to work to increase my transportation options.

When I can breathe outside, I will again look at those options. For today, since telecommuting wasn’t an option this time, I’m a reluctant prisoner of my car — but since I’d have to be driven to the ER if I got sick, there’s really not much of an option.

On the surface, buying a litter box doesn’t appear to have anything to do with making greener choices. But it’s a small example of how once you start looking at things differently, you can make different choices.

A few months ago, I got an automatic litterbox. This particular model takes replaceable trays made of cardboard, into which you pour a measured amount of litter crystals included in the box. Each of the trays with litter comes over-packaged in a large box, and with two cats it appeared I’d be buying two packages a month.

I liked the autobox, but hated the waste (and the expense) of the replacement cartridges.

I did some digging around, and found a couple of people who sold permanent trays for the device. Much better! All I needed to do was empty, clean and refill, no more disposing of excess packaging, no more tossing a cardboard tray.

Good enough, except … the litter the autobox uses is almost impossible to find except in the package with the cardboard tray, and other brands won’t work with the scooping mechanism.  I know this is on purpose — the bars of the scoop arm need be spaced only a little wider for any crystal litter to work. And that would mean you wouldn’t have to buy the company’s litter — you could buy any brand you like.

I have managed to find a bulk supply of the proprietary litter, so I’ll be getting out to that store when I can. But in the meantime, I was facing two unhappy cats and had to pop for the wasteful refill tray.

Whodathought open-sourcing would be important for the greening of a litter box?