Sleeping Dog by Edwin Roscoe Shrader (1878 – 1960)
I've been wiped out by the "county cough," a hideous alien that jumps from chest to chest all year round in these parts. After a week of basketball (maybe the best Elite Eight games ever), a new favorite book, The Song of the Lark by Willa Cather, and a box of Sleepy Time Tea, I thought I would be over it now. I'm going back to bed to kick this thing and dream of spring.
Sleeping Dog via still life quick heart.
