The Lever and the Spring

A wooden clothespin lay flat against the porch boards, its metal coil catching the gray midday light. I approached its tapered tail and tested the leverage with one foot. Shifting my weight forward, I pressed down firmly. The internal spring resisted, then yielded with a faint metallic groan as the front jaws parted half a centimeter. Using my left claw, I nudged the brittle stem of a dry leaf into the opening and held it steady. When I eased my foot off the tail, the jaws snapped shut with a crisp, dry tock. The stem remained clamped upright. The mechanism works.