chasing a shattered asteroid, catching sun

Early this morning, around 5:40 AM or so, I rose to take my anti-hypothyroid pill. Actually, I rose to relieve my bladder, but then to take the little lavendar pill with its required cup of water.
When I saw the time, I checked the view outside: no meteor shower met my gaze.
I returned to bed.
I did not return to sleep.
Come on, you know you need to go outside to really look.
It's cold out there and looked cloudy.
No, I definitely saw some stars. You need to look for Orion's belt, then to red Betelgeuse, then stay on that line northward to Gemini. That's where the shower is to be.
I only saw a few stars.
And it's too chilly.
And it's too early in the day.
Or maybe it's too late at night.
I think it was to become invisible again by dawn.
It isn't dawn yet. It's still dark out. You need to go look.
Come on. How often you do get the chance to see meteor showers?
Go look.
You know you want to. It's the Geminid shower. You must.
I must?

So, I did. I dressed warmly, threw on my shawl, and headed out.
I was rather surprised that the night air wasn't cold.
Chilly, sure. But not cold.
That was a good omen.
I walked around, looking up, scanning the dark sky for the cluster known as Orion's belt.
I found the Big Dipper.
It was huge, too, spanning an enormous expanse of dark velvet, as it did in Okinawa.
I walked around toward the ocean, toward an area I knew would not have much light pollution, scanning the sky.
Still no bits of shattered asteroid known as 3200 Phaethon.
Maybe I'll have better luck tonight, I thought.

And as I was gazing toward the star-sprinkled dark above the ever-singing Atlantic Ocean, I paused.
Was that the Milky Way sprawled up there???
No... I think it's just an odd cloud formation... I think.
Look at the wind whipping the air around under that lamp! Wow!

Then I wandered around, enjoying the wind and the solitude. I kept trying to take a photo of the possible Milky Way stretched overhead, but the little camera on my six-year-old phone could not detect anything.
Then I noticed an odd fringe in the sky. What was that?
And the barest glow emanated just south of where I stood on the beach.
Well, why not? I thought.
That must be the start of the sunrise and I very rarely see those.
Why don't I do my own time-lapse photography, using my trusty phone, and see how long it takes for the sun to rise?
And so I did, snapping a new photo, in roughly the same place, every three to four minutes.
The first one in the series was shot at 6:26 AM. The last photo was taken at 6:58 AM.
No alterations have been made.
This was a fun experiment and certainly made it more fun for me to be up so early.
Now - YAWWWWNN - I'm going back to bed to await a more seemly hour.