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I put the weed plants in the north-east corner of the living room, where almost immediately there were two five by eight glass windows in each wall, with a view of the city to Diamond Heights in the west, all the way to Marine and the Golden Gate Bridge in the north, and to Berkeley/Oakland in the east. There was sun in that corner in early morning and late afternoon until sunset in summer. Those plants were some dynamite stuff - maybe the best I ever had. I remember they got spider webs all over them and the leaves were sticky. When the pollen fell from the buds at the top, it was sprinkled stuck all over the leaves.
The street was below, a hill with a steep climb, and the plants were in plain view of both walkers and car traffic, but nobody seemed to recognize or mind. We never used curtains and the place was wide open to view at all times. But in those two directions there were no direct views from nearby property widows. Course years after I moved down the street for a year and then to Saint Helena, the guy I let take over and run the pottery shop in my absence also had plants in that corner. But he got busted on the night Nixon resigned, when the cops busted everybody in the city they didn't like, who had marijuana plants. They knew where every plant in the city was. They used spies.
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