Morning Magic

The sun has not shined long enough to warm the air to temperatures north of -20. It's a typical February morning in the wilds of northern Minnesota, oppressively frigid, unbearably bitter, so cold that any patch of skin hapless to be exposed tingles with a burning that chills clear to the bone. But though daylight is only at its onset, Proctor is already bustling, indicative of the never-ending procession of rolling steel wheels on steel rails out of the Iron Range required to sustain the production of steel. Recently rolled taconite pellets, rich with moisture and warmth from furnaces in the north, quarrel with the deeply freezing air molecules to assemble a sheathing layer of steam a couple dozen feet above the snow covered grounds of the yard. A similar sensation is generated from hot diesel exhaust belched from the stacks of sedulous locomotives, each engaged in a task that keeps the transportation of ore flowing. Soon the elevating sun will warm the -20 degree air to more tolerable levels, but even with the radiant energy from the sun's glow, the ultimate high will be hard pressed to escape the negatives on this rugged winter day.

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