We didn’t care about the broken sleeping pods. Revived only a month early we started on germinating some of the terra-formers. Twelve samples of a hardy Irish moss thrived under the caring hands of the gardeners (they hated being called astro-botanists), who worked as if their lives depended on it. But none of our lives depended on it. We wouldn’t be around to see Mars take on a greenish hue. But these sleepy six weeks circling the planet, we watched a soul patch of moss crawl across some old Mars rocks from the first landers. Every millimeter was a celebration.