We knew it would arrive at some point, and this past weekend it came: the January thaw. The weekend brought temperatures in the 40s, something we haven't seen for quite a while. Nearly a month, in fact.

It was nice to get outside, see families making snowmen and kids playing in the melting snow. Some ambitious folks even were taking down their holiday lights.

My project for Sunday: removing the small mountain range of compacted ice and snow at the end of my driveway. The December 1 snow sleet rain and ice storm left a crunchy winter lasagne of ice and snow that we all have been dealing with. I can recall the surreailty of scooping snow in the rain that Saturday and trying to clear the driveway without falling down on the ice.

Who says you can't enjoy the seasons in Iowa?

The subsequent snows have added some more strata to the layers at the end of the driveway, and I have been doing what I can to keep the snow from accumulating on the ice. I've used ice melt numerous times, and have been out working with my Razorback long handled ice chopper/scraper.

The reason for all of this diligence? At least twice a day, I have been reminded about the small mountain range as my cars have made the crossing. When the peaks were at their zenith, I was more than a bit concerned about driving into the garage with the oil pan sitting on the driveway.

Raised the son of a mechanic, one of the commandments of motoring is thou shall not run the motor low on oil. This is a mortal and quite expensive sin, often fatal to the innocent car. The incidental contact with the bottom of the car, the whole crunching noise, is very disconcerting, and a constant reminder of the problem at the end of the driveway. The sound is as subtle as fingernails being drawn across a blackboard.

So, last week at this time when the thaw was predicted, my hopes were buoyed that I would get a chance to vanquish the mountains and protect my oilpans and crankcases.

On Saturday, I was able to chip away at some of the edges, scrape some of the snow off of the top. Having the temperatures remain near freezing overnight helped tremendously, as did the thawing that occurred up the hill from me, bringing a stream of water to run under the ice, which extended a foot into the street.

I knew that Sunday was a make or break time, with the weather forecast calling for some freezing rain on Monday (which thankfully didn't arrive) and snow later in the week. If I didn't get it cleared on Sunday, it might wait a much longer time.

I waited until nearly noon before going out to make my stand. Clanging steel on concrete isn't a very pleasant way to wake your neighbors.

As I began chipping away, looking for a place to clear a path to the street, I remembered the fun I would have as a child, blocking and unblocking the cold, icy flow of snowmelt water as it made its way to the storm sewer. In our three buckle galoshes, we were impervious to water and cold. Until a buckle broke, or you got a hole in the boot, then it wasn't nearly as much fun.

Funny, isn't it, how what is so much fun as a child is such a tedious chore as an adult?

I made my little Panama Canal, finding a path from the driveway to the street, draining the water that had accumulated behind the mountains. Then, an ancient scoop shovel proved to be the best tool to get under the ice and pry away three foot sections of ice. Picking up these sections of ice and hurling them onto the parking became tiring, but I could see that success was at hand.

An hour and a half later, the mountains had been moved.

I'm hoping to regain the use of my spine sometime next month.

As always, I welcome your comments. You can reach me by email at tstangl@lemarscomm.net, telephone 712-546-7031, x40 or toll free 1-800-728-0066 x40.

Thanks for reading, I'll keep in touch. Feel free to do the same.