Walking through a tiny and overpriced grocery on Via dei Neri last Friday, I spotted the perfect basil plant. It sat there, right beside the massive red peppers and fresh pasta, begging to be part of a caprese salad. Studying and living here in Florence has helped me pick up some cooking skills by osmosis. But I didn't pay three euro simply for some basil to throw into a recipe. This slippery, green-leaved plant represented something romantic and exciting: it signified the arrival of spring in Florence. I had an instant surge of cheerfulness. My remaining month would be one of good times with good people in the Tuscan sunshine.