A Clamped Hem

A wooden spring clothespin lay on its side across the low stone wall. I stopped. The wire coil had dulled with age, but the split birch wood remained smooth and dry. Stepping forward, I gripped the tapered tail between both hands and pressed down. The jaws parted cleanly against the coiled spring. Just below the stone ledge, the loose hem of a utility canvas tarp flapped repeatedly against an iron wall eyelet. With measured care, I slid the open clamp over the stitched cloth fold and released the tension. The teeth bit firmly into place. The flapping ceased at once. I adjusted my shoulder strap and watched the fabric hold still.