MuscleHeart Photo Of The Moment

Joshua Tree Morning

Clint Piatelli — Tue, 17 Sep 2013 13:40:25 +0000

"To speak truly, few adult persons can see nature. Most persons do not see the sun. At least they have a very superficial seeing. The sun illuminates only the eye of the man, but shines into the eye and heart of the child. The lover of nature is he whose inward and outward senses are still truly adjusted to each other; who has retained the spirit of infancy even into the era of manhood." ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

Cape Marsh

Clint Piatelli — Wed, 11 Sep 2013 11:36:53 +0000

Three Chiefs

Clint Piatelli — Tue, 09 Jul 2013 12:40:59 +0000

My dad, with his two twin boys, outside of our home at 42 Vose Hill Road. I’m not sure why Mike and I both appear to have attitudes in this picture. Especially considering that we are posing in front of our nifty new red modes of transport. Maybe it has something to do with what we’re wearing. We were no more than four in this picture (we moved from this house in 1967), but that’s probably the last time I ever wore a V-neck sweater.

The Perfect Rainbow

Clint Piatelli — Tue, 18 Jun 2013 12:23:05 +0000

Graduation Day

Clint Piatelli — Fri, 07 Jun 2013 11:14:52 +0000

May, 1981. Me an my good buddy Cusa at my high school graduation party. Except for my hat, we really dressed like this. Ready to unleash our uniqueness on an unsuspecting planet.....

Forestude

Clint Piatelli — Mon, 15 Apr 2013 12:13:44 +0000

Yesterday, I spent some time hiking with some great people in The Blue Hills, which are just south of Boston. I left the group to head back by myself, ended up getting lost, and spent some time alone just meandering through the woods. I hadn't spent time alone in nature in a while. It fed my spirit.

Fire Water

Clint Piatelli — Wed, 10 Apr 2013 12:00:40 +0000

       New Jersey, circa 1990. Friends from college were throwing a summer party. I was the self-appointed Chairmen of The Slip And Slide Committee.
       I optioned for the Dual Race Version, so that two people could careen down the "slippery when wet" polyurethane highway at once, testing their speed, skill, and alcohol impairment.
       It was a huge hit. My twin brother Mike and I, however, took it to the next level. We’re good at that.
       After a few dozen races, it wasn’t enough to get a running start and slide down the track as fast as we could. We wanted to get a running start and slide down the track as fast as we could carrying lit tiki torches. Made it feel kinda like the Olympics.
       I’ve been called a one man show. And I am. But I really love being part of a team. And my twin brother is one of my favorite teammates.

XXXXPlorers

Clint Piatelli — Thu, 14 Mar 2013 12:33:36 +0000

In February 2004, I was living on the water in North Falmouth, Massachusetts. Buzzard's Bay, the specific body of water that my property looked out on, froze solid. From shore to shore, it was one giant, glorious, salt water freeze pop.

Every day for a week, I ventured further and further out onto it. Foolhardy and dangerous, perhaps. But I couldn't let this beautiful, rare, event, that I had a front row seat for, happen right in front of me without viscerally experiencing it. It was NOT enough just to see it; I had to LIVE it.

On the day of Super Bowl 38, a few of us ventured out about half a mile offshore and took this picture on a buoy off the coast. It's one of my favorite photos of all time. Everything about it is right. I remember exactly how I felt; Like The Stars Had Aligned, Just For Me. Here I was, with people I loved, living on the edge, in the middle of a frigid winter wonderland, experiencing a precious and rare event first hand, on the day of my Patriots playing in another Super Bowl. Oh, and the night before, my band had just played a kick ass gig.

I could have easily titled this post "Perfection".

Love & Smoochies

Clint Piatelli — Wed, 23 Jan 2013 14:23:59 +0000

This is the only picture I have of my folks making out. My dad used to sign off on his letters to me with the phrase "Love & Smoochies". I thought of that the second I saw this picture.

Frozen Moments

Clint Piatelli — Fri, 18 Jan 2013 12:43:46 +0000

These four photos were taken between January 9 and January 16, 2004. During that time, I witnessed an extremely rare event. Nearly all of the 487 square miles of Buzzard's Bay, in Cape Cod, Massachusetts, froze solid that winter. I was able to capture that progression in photographs.

1) This first picture was taken on January 9. Notice the frozen seawater on top of what we called "Pig Rock". Such frozen sea water indicates a prolonged period of exceptionally cold weather. The ocean temperature gets cold enough to actually ice over solid objects, like rocks, whose surface temperature is also very low. Salt water freezes at a lower temperature than fresh water, and it's constantly moving in the bay. So for salt water to freeze like this, well, it's gotta be very cold. And it's gotta be very cold for a while.

2) This photo, taken the next day, on January 10, depicts a layer of fog, in winter, that has formed only over water, not land. This is evidence of extremely cold air, below zero or in the single digits, over extremely cold water. Water vapor escaping from the ocean instantly freezes because of how cold the air is. This phenomenon is rare on Cape Cod. Also notice that considerably more frozen seawater has formed over Pig Rock.

3) This picture was also taken on January 10, but later that morning. Notice that, even though it's almost noon, there is still considerable fog over the ocean. And, more significantly, notice the water closest to shore. It's slushy and viscous, partially frozen. This is evidence of extremely cold water that is beginning to actually freeze where it's shallow. And, although it's later in the day, the temperature has not moved up much, if at all. Bottom line: there is a widespread region of very cold air, and it's not going anywhere soon.

4) The coup de gras: A Frozen Ocean on January 16. The memory of the night before, and the morning of, this momentous event is incredibly vivid. I remember going to bed at my girlfriend's house, which also overlooked Buzzard's Bay, on the night of January 15. It was absolutely frigid out, and there was no wind at all. That meant Buzzard's Bay would be very still. The viscosity of the water at the shoreline had been increasing over the last several days. And that slushy, partially frozen water, alluded to in the last picture, had been spreading out further into the bay. I wondered that night, just before going to bed, as I peered out the sliding glass doors of her bedroom overlooking the bay, "Wouldn't it be cool if the bay froze overnight, and we awoke to that."

Needless to say, the next morning, I was ecstatic.....