Happy Friday — we’re back with more Hot Bones after the most polarizing edition to date. Last week was all about tinned fish, and people had thoughts. It turns out, sardines may be the defining issue of our age.

To recap the community poll:

A few suggestions to wrap this up.

If you’re looking to try more tinned fish: You can get deals online via Patagonia Provisions or Fishwife. In Charlottesville proper, Wegman’s, Whole Foods, and Feast are good places to stock up.

If you’re looking to avoid tinned fish: Stay strong and don’t let the sardines look you in the eye.

If you were excited about tinned fish until you tried them: Thanksgiving is mere weeks away. Hide them in a layer of the broccoli casserole.

Do one long thumb scroll for more Cville-specific updates like local events, cool houses, and pets to adopt.

🐶 Speaking of: Elenora! This sweetie pie hound loves people, other dogs, and any opportunity to sing (not a joke). 6 years old, 31 pounds, and needs help gaining some weight!

I did a little mental math recently and realized it’s been exactly 20 years this month since my family’s ill-fated gardening weekend. It all started when my dad came home from work and told us he had a surprise waiting in the car.

We put on coats and trundled out to the street. At this point, my brother and I treated dad “surprises” with skepticism, given the drawers full of tiny shampoos and soaps we’d been gifted over the years.

“No no this is a great surprise, trust me,” he told us.

We couldn’t see anything fogging up the windows, so at least there wasn’t a live animal in the car either (another likely possibility).

As we got closer to the car, my dad started to do this excited laugh — G does it too on occasion — I call it “industrious giggle breathing” and it always precedes a brilliant idea or a terrible idea. But the enthusiasm is the same. You can’t help but laugh and breathe heavily as you tee things up. It’s just too exciting.

He opened the trunk. It was full of boxes. We could smell something strong, dry, and earthy.

“Bulbs!”

“Dad, what.”

“Daffodil bulbs! For us!”

My brother and I looked at the half dozen boxes. They seemed heavy and full.

“How many are there?”

“Hundreds. Enough for a whole hillside. And we’re going to plant them this weekend. Together, a family activity.”

For my brother, video games beckoned from inside. For me, literally anything besides bulb planting beckoned.

“Hmm we’re busy that day.”

The fun thing about being a teenager is that your parents can cancel all your fake plans and make you plant daffodils with them whether you like it or not (you just wait, one day I’ll write about how horrible this is).

To this day, I have no idea where my dad got the idea to plant 900+ daffodil bulbs or honestly where he even bought 900 bulbs. I just know they arrived in his trunk and they made the next two days of my life fairly miserable.

We started early on Saturday morning. It was a late fall day, perfect for coffee and crossword puzzles — or a long walk down a country road — or a cozy morning nap after a big breakfast. Or even just getting a jump start on studying for exams. Pretty much anything but kneeling in the nearly frozen dirt with a box of husky onion things.

To be fair, the first couple bulbs aren’t bad.

You dig a six-inch hole with your family-assigned trowel, and the earth smells good. The sun is shining on your back and yeah sure maybe you can see Dad’s vision for a hillside covered in yellow flowers. You can still hear the entrepid giggles from somewhere nearby.

You drop in the bulb and tuck it in with loose dirt. Goodnight lil guy. See you this spring.

Then, on about your fifth bulb, you start hitting rocks as you dig. Also roots and hard clumps of clay. Your back and knees start to ache. The sun is now in your eyes. The recommended six-inch holes become four inches. Sometimes two.

“How many have you done?” I asked my brother.

“Five.”

“Same. How many are left do you think?”

We looked at the single box we’d pulled from the car. The others remained in the trunk. We could still see bulbs poking out of the top of this one.

“Gonna be a long day.”

Before we go any further, just know that this ^ was the result a few months later. So it was all worth it.

But wow what a weekend. We hadn’t gotten through even half the boxes by the time the sun set on Saturday. Sensing mutiny was imminent, my dad got in the car early Sunday morning on a mysterious mission. This was fine for the rest of us — even my mom would much rather watch my brother play FIFA than dig more holes.

He came back a few hours later with a renewed resolve, a St Crispin’s Day speech, and power drills with auger attachments. The mood was better than Christmas.

We finished the project in a few hours, kicking ourselves for the day wasted with basic trowel technology.

But to this day, you can see where even the electric drills failed us: The daffodils span a hillside, yes, but there’s a very clear arc between where bulb meets grass. And if you were a mathematician or a detective, you’d recognize that 200-foot radius is the exact distance between a 200-foot extension cord and the single outdoor outlet. After that we gave up.

It turns out, 20 years is the exact amount of time it takes for your body to fully forget how annoying bulb planting is. Because last weekend I looked at G over our morning coffee and said, “We should plant daffodils today. Like, a lot.”

A new project! Cue the industrious giggle breathing.

Children really do become their parents. Good thing society has convinced hotels to stop giving away tiny shampoos and soaps. Other G would really be in trouble.

Thankfully, Ivy Nursery does not sell boxes of bulbs, so we were spared a 2-day affair. Just 90 bulbs this time. Child’s play.

If you, like me, are called to garden only once every 20 years, here’s why you should focus that energy on bulb planting.

But better than all that … flower bulbs make things look pretty, and one days like these when it’s cold, windy, and gets dark at 5pm, it’s nice to think about things like spring flowers. You can group them, plant them in forgotten spots, even sneak a few into your neighbor’s yard to spread the love. They come in all colors but I do believe yellow daffodils are the true harbingers of spring. And except for tulips, most bulbs come back year after year. So feel free to loan out that electric drill with the auger attachment.

You also don’t need a yard to plant bulbs. They can make your apartment smell amazing right from a pot. Try paperwhites or an amaryllis to start, and just make sure that the pot you’re using has holes in the bottom. Sounds obvious but otherwise things get moldy because the water can’t seep out, and you’ll be tempted to toss the whole thing off the fire escape.

Paperwhites also make great holiday gifts 👀

If you’re actually a gardener, please fact check me on all of this. As you know, I’m one bulb away from hating gardening at any point, so I’m certainly no expert.

Since we didn’t have that many bulbs this past weekend, we laid them out in the dirt first and then dug holes around them. Again, we started out six inches deep and were delighted to learn the smaller crocuses and snowdrops only require 2-4 inches.

If you’re planning a whole daffodil hillside, though, I’ve since learned the best thing to do is remove the top layer of soil or grass, throw 500 bulbs in the dirt, and then cover everything up again. This does not take an entire weekend and it will not make your family temporarily hate you.

As for us, G took the left side of the walkway, and I took the right. We raced and she won.

One last thing: If you think you’re late to the draw with bulb planting, don’t worry. Late fall is the recommended time to plant bulbs that’ll bloom in early spring, and in a silver lining twist, our warming planet means that you can actually get away with planting even later in the season since the ground is less likely to be totally frozen yet.

Happy digging.

🌷 If you’ve done any planting this fall, send in your pics and any advice! Hot Bones could use both.

Frannie was extremely upset that she wasn’t allowed to help dig holes during Bulb Planting Weekend 2.0.

🚧 And how did that make you feel? VDOT is looking for your unadulterated feedback on the 5th Street exchange near the 64 exit. This is a government survey, so stay strong amid the jargon and unnecessarily confusing phrasing. They want to know if there should be more sidewalks and bike paths.

🐕 A good day for doggos: This Sunday is one of the only Dog Days of the year at James Monroe’s Highland. There’s free access to the series of rustic hiking trails, but bring a leash and bag.

🛍️ And a good day for savvy shoppers: This year’s First Street Flea is this Saturday (10am - 3pm), featuring over 20 local craft, artisan, and vintage vendors, plus lots of great food.

🏠 Dream mid-century house: Someone will write the next great American novel standing in a pool of sunlight, looking out these front windows. Historic renovation was completed in 2022, including birchwood floors and a full in-law suite (5 beds, 4 baths, $725k in downtown Staunton).

🏡 Great rental of the week: Ideal cottage with 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, and transom windows. Within walking distance to campus, the Fry’s Spring Beach Club, and Azalea Dog Park ($2,350 starting December 2025).

💾 So long, tangerine iMac: BeCamp is hosting a free electronics recycling dropoff during this weekend’s un-conference. If you have a drawer full of random, unknowable cables, this one’s for you.

💼 Job of the week: Media and Public Relations Specialist at the Piedmont Environmental Council (hybrid, headquarters in Warrenton, $60k - $80k).

Have an event or rec you’d like to share? Hiring? Interested in advertising?

Share any and all info here.