A Snap of Wood and Wire

I pushed past the screen door onto the porch planks, eager to leave the enclosed hallway behind. Clipped to a low cord tied along the railing hung a weathered wooden clothespin. I paused, drawing a sharp, cautious breath through my teeth to assess its shape. Raising one heavy hand, I pinched the flat wooden tails between two claws. The tiny coiled spring resisted with stiff tension before yielding, forcing its notched jaws to snap wide open. When I released the pressure, the wood clamped shut with a sharp, dry clack, seizing a crisp oak leaf pinned beneath it. A low, curious rasp rumbled in my throat as I squeezed the lever once more.