When it comes to Mother Nature, I resist little and concede much. Except when it comes to my driveway in winter. As winter approaches each year, I muster all my forces of resistance, determined to fight yet again to keep every square inch free from the hostile advances of snow and ice.

How can it be that so soon the battle has been lost in the fall of 2014?

Oh, I know well that beating back winter is largely a futile enterprise, that nature is determined to have her way. I know that what nature wants, nature largely gets. But my deference has its limits, and I draw my line in the sand at the head of my driveway.

Most years, at least until March or so, it seems nearly a fair fight.

Come November of each year, I am at the ready. I thought myself ready this year. My heavy artillery, the snowblower, was tuned, gassed and oiled. My array of assault shovels sat gleaming in the garage. My stealth weapon, a scraper with stainless steel blade, was shined and sharp. And my reinforcements, my children, seemed clear-eyed and determined. Together, we made our pact that our communal stretch of tarmac, running the length of our house from garage to street, shall remain cleared, that the cars in our garage shall enjoy free and unfettered ingress and egress, and that we would engage in this noble struggle together and against all odds.

We fully expected to again play the heroes in our own annual epic: "Saving Private Driveway."

After all, it is not merely concrete at stake. From this runway my children are launched daily toward the rewards of education. From this hallowed ground my spouse and I depart to play our part in the economy and to retrieve our sustenance, our paychecks. My pets patrol our driveway's perimeter to fulfill their protective duties. All of us return to this landing deck to seek sanctuary from a trying world.

This strategic stretch, this homeland path, must be defended at all costs.

And, most years, defend it we do. We blow snow into piles. We shovel it into larger piles. We chip and chop. We scratch and scrape, desperately struggling to hold the territory from the onslaught of winter. Nature offers no quarter. We typically take none.

So what happened in 2014?

Mother Nature struck with lightning speed and strength. On the heels of rain and sleet, she delivered plummeting temperatures, then pummeling snow. We had hardly joined the fight before being overrun.

It is only November and already my driveway, pocked with ruts and ice divots, is nearly unnavigable. Already, the city plow has deposited an unmovable berm of ice at the foot of my driveway. Before firing even a shot, my troops are in full retreat.

I'm tempted this year to abandon the fight altogether, to park the snowblower and the shovels, to abandon the cars until spring to their deep-freeze storage in the garage. Instead of breaking my back resisting winter, maybe I'll just give my back a break, while contemplating the prospects of a tropical getaway and public transportation.

Bill O'Brien lives in Minneapolis.