When you’re recording a long, quiet video, steadiness becomes everything. A tripod is ideal, of course—but when I’m out walking, I don’t usually have one with me. Tree trunks and branches can work in a pinch, but even those have a wobble when bracing it with your hand. And when the goal is to capture stillness—a calm scene where the viewer can just be—that tiny shake starts to feel loud.
On this particular morning, I was walking through Manor Woods in Glen Ellyn, Illinois. Three days earlier, Chicagoland had its snowiest November day in recorded history. The woods were still covered in a thick, untouched blanket of white—soft, quiet, muffled. The world felt paused.
I wanted to record that stillness. I tried balancing my phone on a branch. The idea was to keep my hand off the phone, so it would just sit on the branch completely still. But the phone kept slipping off the branch. To help balance the phone better, I took off my bulky winter glove. As I set the glove down, a thought crossed my mind:
“Watch, this is a moment where I discover something completely counterintuitive, like the glove can be used as a tripod.”
That ridiculous idea hung around long enough to become curiosity. I draped the glove over the branch and placed the phone on top—expecting it to flop sideways immediately, because a glove without a hand inside is basically a sack of fabric.
But instead… it worked.
The glove formed a soft, steady cradle. It widened the branch just enough, cushioned the phone, and held everything perfectly still.
Who knew a winter glove could double as a tripod?
I let the camera run. For seven and a half minutes, the scene didn’t move—except for a few birds quietly coasting through the frame. Snow resting on branches. Absolute silence. A moment where time seemed to soften. Watch the video on YouTube.
A few life lessons from the glove tripod
- Sometimes the solution is already in your hands. Literally.
- Ridiculous ideas are often just creative ideas waiting for permission.
- Softness can support more than we expect.
- Stability doesn’t always come from rigidity—sometimes it comes from flexibility.
- Slow moments are worth recording, even if no one else sees them.
What began as a small annoyance turned into a small discovery. A winter glove holding up an iPhone. A simple walk turning into seven minutes of blissful stillness. A quiet reminder that creativity isn’t a lightning strike—it’s simply paying attention.
If you ever need a tripod in the snow, look down. Your hands might already be holding the answer.