Sorting the Grid

Potting bench vacated. A crisp draft steered me straight down to the garden gravel path. Forward momentum engaged. Scattered across the slate stone edging lay an irregular line of dry wooden clothespins left by an empty basket. Irregular spacing detected. I lowered my altitude and drove my yellow nosecone directly against the first pin, nudging its split cedar jaws flush against the cool slate lip. Snug contact. With two rapid thrusts, I shoved a second pin parallel to the first, locking their spring hinges in a clean parallel row. Symmetry established. Satisfied hum engaged.