A quiet, patient snap. Snapples stand vigil, with solemn attention, beneath laden branches, as their namesakes begin as flowers, spend the summer gathering sweetness, and then, when at their fullest, they let go.

They understand something that the rest of us are too hurried to notice.
Everything that ripens must eventually fall.
Snapple watches for it.

Distinguished by their unmistakable speckled skin, mottled with lenticels, and pleasingly plump bellies, this sturdy breed have been documented in varying hues of apple-green.
The resemblance is more than superficial. Snapples are said to have a particular fondness for orchards, gathering amongst fallen fruit.

Their populations peak in the late summer when the apples are heavy on the branches. Reputable theories have appointed the nests found at the bottom of bushels of apples to this breed of snap.

Whether they eat the apples is another matter. Guild members have found plenty of half-eaten apples near Snapple sightings, but never actually caught one in the act. There is some suspicion that it is simply a camouflage.

There is nothing sad about falling when falling is what fruit was always meant to do.

There is only the strange tenderness of knowing that the sweetest things cannot be kept.

And perhaps that is why Snapple guards fallen apples.
Not because they are still valuable.
Because they were.

Since Eden, temptation has been man’s greatest downfall.

So next time you find yourself reaching for something especially appealing, be careful; it might just...

Snap.