Read the can’s label

This week in This Old Window, we replace the brittle screening in a 36-by-48-inch wood-sash window.

Our subject window is in a rear sunporch on a circa 1920s Sears, Roebuck bungalow. Its first owner was a professional carpenter who later built the porch from scratch.

To do this replacement project, the writer gathered these tools from his workshop: 16-ounce hammer, prybar, putty knife scraper with keen edge, miterbox, small handsaw,  stapler and wallboard knife. 

The parts expenditure was $10.99 for a roll of aluminum screening and $6.72 for 24 feet of half-inch, half-round molding. (That was too much molding but the extra was put in stock in the basement. There appeared to be enough extra screening to do the rear door as a later project.) 

Already on hand were a jar of 7/8-inch brads, a broken-in sash paintbrush, two plastic drop cloths and leftover glossy white exterior paint.

First item of business: Establish a workplace. Solution: Front porch, resting the window atop a railing and a sawhorse.

Second item: Remove the window. Solution: This was accomplished after a fashion, aggravated by a non-injurious tumble from the stepladder when a nail gave away in removing an upper retaining board that held the sliding screen in place. Turned out, the “nails” in the board were really screws.

Third item: Remove the old molding, pull staples and peel off the brittle old screening. Solution: Obvious.

Fourth: Replace the screening. Solution: While budgeted for two hours, this task ended up taking two weeks, what with the need for strategic planning, one false start and very-slow-drying paint.

The previous moldings broke during removal, so the writer  cut new pieces, angling the corners for a snug fit. The frame had a crossbar, so he cut a flat wooden slat to fit that distance.

He painted front and back of the parts before assembly. Likewise, he scraped the old frame and gave it a fresh coat of paint.

The carpenter, having failed to read the label on the paint can, discovered when attempting to rinse the acrylic paint from the brush — squeezing it several times with his left hand — that the paint was actually alkyd.  And sticky, leaving a sheen on the kitchen faucet and basin and on the carpenter’s hand. Mineral spirits and a dozen paper towels remedied the issue.

The alkyd paint took the rest of the day and overnight to dry.

Trying to cut the screening material to shape before stapling it to the frame proved hopeless. It was too stretchy. Or not stretchy enough. Gaaah!, the carpenter exclaimed.

On a second attempt, he stapled the new screening firmly at the top and one side and carefully pulled and nudged (keeping the line of the screen straight up and straight across) and stapled the rest. All was firmed up with the wooden moldings.

The carpenter was relieved to find that a wallboard knife with a sharp new blade handily sliced through the screening material, so the excess was easily removed.

A second coat of paint took the rest of another day to dry.

Before the spiffy screen could be returned to its place, the companion glass-paned windows needed to be scraped and painted. Hot sun limited the writer’s labors to 15 minutes at a time.

But all was eventually completed to the carpenter’s satisfaction. 

There are fewer flies on the back porch now.

Next time in This Old Window: Replacing tired glazing on a porch window without breaking the glass.