Last month, a couple in Monument asked us to solve their backyard’s biggest problem: a porch that was too buggy for morning coffee but too beautiful to abandon. What started as a simple screen request turned into a rethink of how they used their whole space.
1. The Project or Problem
The Johnsons’ backyard was almost perfect. A generous wooden deck, a view of Pikes Peak, and just enough shade from a few mature pines. But by mid-summer, their morning ritual—coffee outside, listening to the birds—was getting hijacked by mosquitoes. They’d tried citronella candles, bug zappers, even a fancy (but loud) fan. Nothing worked long-term.
The real kicker? They’d built the deck specifically for relaxing, but now they were dodging wasps and swatting at gnats. "We love being outside, but not like this," they laughed, waving away another invisible foe. Their dog, a golden retriever named Boone, was the only one unbothered—he’d sprawl happily while they retreated inside.
We knew screens could help, but the challenge was making it feel intentional, not just functional. This wasn’t about boxing them in; it was about opening up their space on their terms.
2. The Discovery
That’s when we revisited our Screen Enclosures page—a resource we’d built precisely for this kind of dilemma. The page breaks down how screens can be more than just bug blockers: they’re climate buffers, privacy enhancers, and even design anchors. One section, "Screens That Feel Like an Extension of Your Home," stood out. It highlighted how the right framing and sightlines can make an enclosure feel airy, not confined.
The Johnsons loved the idea of a "room outside"—a place where Boone could nap while they read or hosted friends without the bug spray routine. The page also helped them visualize options they hadn’t considered, like retractable screens or subtle bronze frames (instead of basic white) to match their deck’s stain.
3. What It Made Us Think
Most homeowners assume screens are a binary choice: open or closed. But this project reminded us that the best solutions live in the nuances. The Johnsons didn’t just need a barrier; they needed a transition—a way to blur the line between indoors and out.
We shifted the plan from a standard screened box to a hybrid layout:
A screened "zone" around the seating area, with panels that could be removed in cooler months.
Open edges near the steps, so Boone could come and go without a doggy door.
A vaulted ceiling frame to keep the mountain view unobstructed.
It was a reminder that design isn’t about adding more—it’s about adding just enough.
4. Small Wins, Lessons, or Plans
The breakthrough came when we sketched a layout using the deck’s existing posts as anchor points. By aligning the screen frames with the deck’s natural rhythm, the structure felt built-in, not bolted-on. We opted for a charcoal mesh (less glare than black, softer than aluminum) and added a ceiling fan to keep the air moving.
One hiccup? The Johnsons initially worried about losing sunlight. But after testing a sample panel, they realized the mesh diffused the light beautifully—"like a permanent golden hour," as they put it. Boone approved, too; he could still bark at squirrels through the screen.
5. Wrap-Up / Reflection
This project reinforced something we see often: the best outdoor spaces aren’t just usable—they’re inviting. For the Johnsons, screens didn’t shrink their deck; they expanded how they used it. Now, they’re out there year-round, even during monsoon season (a major win in Colorado).
If you’re debating screens, start by asking: What do you want to feel when you step outside? Sometimes, the answer isn’t a bigger space—just a better one.
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