Storm Cloud Time-Lapse with the DJI Pocket 3 + ND64
- gear4greatness
- Jul 4, 2025
- 4 min read
Updated: Nov 9, 2025
🌪️ Storm Cloud Time-Lapse with the DJI Pocket 3 + ND64
There’s something magnetic about storm light — that restless shimmer that rolls through the air before the clouds swallow the sun. ⚡ I could feel it long before I even unpacked the camera — the air thick with humidity, the trees bending in that uneasy rhythm nature gets right before it lets loose. Most people were hurrying home, pulling jackets tight, rushing for shelter. I stayed. Tripod in hand, DJI Pocket 3 ready, Freewell ND64 glinting faintly under the dim light. I wanted that moment — the shift, the breath, the build-up before chaos. The kind of scene that feels alive even before you press record. 🎥
Setting up near the river, I watched the surface ripple under the first gusts. The light was sharp and moody, bouncing off the water like quicksilver. 🌊 I slipped on the ND64 — a small move that completely changed everything. The harsh glare vanished, replaced by soft gradients and deep, metallic tones that looked more like a painting than a video. I dialed the shutter to 1/60 for smooth cloud motion, locked ISO at 100 to keep things pure and clean, and framed the treeline just below the horizon. The gimbal held firm despite the wind tugging at my jacket — steady, loyal, precise. It felt like the camera understood what I wanted: to slow down time just enough to feel the heartbeat of the storm.
There’s a meditative rhythm to filming weather like this. 🌬️ The sky kept changing by the minute — soft blue giving way to gray, then gray bleeding into silver and white. Every few seconds, the Pocket 3 clicked its interval, capturing another fleeting expression of the clouds. Each shot felt like a pulse. I stood there, letting the air fill my lungs, trying not to think too much — just feel. The smell of rain was thick and earthy, like wet metal. Somewhere behind me, thunder rumbled faintly, that deep, rolling kind that vibrates in your chest. I remember smiling because that sound meant I’d started at the perfect time.
I’ve used ND filters for years, but ND64 has a special kind of magic — it balances intensity with patience. ☁️ It lets the highlights breathe and the shadows whisper. I love how it calms even the angriest skies, pulling the mood into focus instead of washing it out. It’s the kind of filter that rewards patience — you have to trust it, wait for the light, and let the motion unfold naturally. Watching the horizon churn felt like witnessing something ancient — a living painting made of vapor and light.
When the first drops started to fall, I didn’t move. 🌧️ I let the camera keep rolling as the wind twisted my hood and the lens caught tiny droplets in soft focus. There was a kind of surrender in that — letting go of control and just being there. Later, when I sat down to edit, I slowed the footage slightly and added a cool, cinematic grade. The colors leaned into blue steel and gray smoke. I dropped in a low, rumbling thunder track and boosted the clarity just enough to bring out the edges of each cloud. The result was exactly what I’d imagined: smooth, moody, and atmospheric — like the world had exhaled all at once.
Storm Cloud Time-Lapse with the DJI Pocket 3 + ND64
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🌄 FINAL THOUGHTS
Every time I film a storm, I’m reminded that creativity and nature speak the same language — unpredictability. 💭 You can’t rush a storm or bend it to your will. You can only align yourself with it, work within its rhythm, and let it tell its own story. The DJI Pocket 3 and ND64 didn’t just help me capture motion — they helped me understand patience, timing, and trust. There’s power in waiting, in knowing that the most dramatic beauty often happens in silence between gusts.
That day taught me that creation is equal parts chaos and calm. ⚙️ The ND64 filter wasn’t just a technical choice; it was a way of breathing with the moment — slowing down when everything around me wanted to speed up. The footage felt alive because I felt alive while filming it. I could feel the storm moving through me — not just above me. And that connection, that awareness, is what makes filmmaking feel spiritual. It’s less about control and more about communion.
Sometimes I think about how that footage will age — how years from now, someone might watch it and feel the same chill, the same stillness before the rain. 🌪️ Maybe they won’t know what gear I used, or how many times I checked my exposure, or how soaked my jacket got. But they’ll feel something. That’s what matters. That’s the real reason I stay out there — because moments like that aren’t meant to be escaped. They’re meant to be remembered.
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