Screens facing Lake Lowell take the worst of it — midge and mayfly hatches plaster the mesh every summer, while a northwest blow packs Canyon County field silt into the weave from the other side. We pull every screen, wash it flat in pure deionized water, and reset it. $50 flat.
Nampa sits at 2,474 feet, the lowest and flattest of the valley's cities, with no foothills upwind to catch weather — just 300,000-plus acres of Canyon County farm ground running back toward Caldwell and Parma. That matters for a screen, because field silt is finer, stickier and more organic than the decomposed granite that dusts off the Boise Front. It bonds to the mesh instead of shaking loose. Layer on the Amalgamated Sugar plant on Karcher Road shedding alkaline lime dust, Union Pacific's Nampa Yard throwing diesel soot and grain-transload dust diagonally through the middle of town, and I-84 diesel film off the Franklin and Northside exits. Prevailing wind runs northwest down the valley axis, so your north- and west-facing screens fill first — a hard NW blow drops field silt straight into the weave.
Nampa's screen signature is bugs, and it comes off the water. Lake Lowell and the Deer Flat National Wildlife Refuge, nearly 9,000 acres on the city's southwest edge, throw enormous midge and mayfly hatches every summer that plaster south- and west-facing screens, upper sashes and solar panels. They pack into the mesh and the slider track, and the instinct to crush them in place just grinds the bodies into the weave and stains the frame. On top of that, cottonwood and elm fluff off the Indian Creek and Mason Creek corridors mats a screen solid in late May and June, and wildfire smoke drifting in from Oregon settles as fine ash. A mesh loaded like this can't be brushed clean in place — brushing smears it. It has to come out and get flushed.
Nampa's median home went up around 2000, a full construction generation older than Meridian or Star, and the screens show it. The dominant type is a first-generation white or almond vinyl full screen on 1990s-2000s builder windows now 20 to 30 years old — chalking frames, soft corner keys, thin spline, brittle enough that flexing one wrong will crack it. Ridgecrest, Bayhill, Oakhurst Estates, Waterhouse and Copper River Basin are all this. Then there's Old Nampa, the 18-block historic district off downtown, where 1900-1940 Craftsman bungalows still carry wood-framed seasonal screens and wood storm windows, each one hand-fit to a single opening. And Nampa carries the heaviest share of manufactured and mobile homes in the valley, which run light aluminum-frame sliders that crease permanently if you flex them. One clean, three completely different handling jobs.
Every screen comes out and gets laid flat on a pad. Nothing gets scrubbed against the glass in place — that just drives field silt and lime dust through the mesh and down onto the sill and vinyl track. Both faces get a soft brush to lift packed grit and bug debris, then a full flush with 100% pure deionized water and no soap. Soap matters more on screens than on glass: whatever stays in the weave stays tacky and grabs the next round of field dust within a week, and the first sprinkler cycle runs it down the pane you just paid to clean. Nampa's well water runs about 7 grains per gallon, moderately hard, so a plain hose rinse leaves its own mineral spotting on the mesh and frame. DI water carries no minerals and dries clean. Screens go back in their own openings, checked for seat.
Stand inside, three feet back, and look through a screened window at something with detail — a fence board, a neighbor's brick — then through an unscreened window on the same wall. If the screened view is hazy and the bare one is sharp, the screen is the problem, not the glass. Now run a finger down the mesh. Dry tan powder that keeps coming is field silt. A chalky white crust on the bottom rail is dried pressurized-irrigation overspray or beet-campaign lime, and that usually means a sprinkler head is aimed at the house — re-aim it first or you'll pay for this again in a month. The honest version: newer screens on the sheltered east side, out of any spray, can wait. And if the mesh is torn, dented or bellied out of the frame, washing won't fix it. That's a rescreen, not a clean.
Fifty dollars covers every screen on the house, hand-cleaned — not per screen, not per window. A Ridgecrest two-story might have sixteen; an Old Nampa bungalow with wood-frame screens and storms might have twenty-eight, and the price doesn't move. Most people book it alongside a window cleaning, since loaded mesh and dirty glass re-soil each other and doing one without the other is half a job. Monthly and Quarterly members get their annual screen clean free, no contract, and quarterly service runs about $100 less per cleaning than one-off work. Glass work carries a 7-Day Rain Guarantee. Reflekt is locally owned and fully insured, founded in 2025 by Hunter Stevens and Ethan Seusy, rated 4.9 stars across 115+ Google reviews. Same-day and next-day slots open Monday through Saturday, 7am to 7pm, closed Sunday. Call (208) 453-6760.
ZIP codes: 83651, 83686, 83687 · Part of our wider Nampa service area.
Free, no-obligation estimate in under 60 seconds.
Get My Free EstimateStill wondering about something? Call or text us at (208) 453-6760.
$50 flat for every screen on the house, hand-cleaned, however many there are. A two-story in Copper River Basin and an Old Nampa bungalow with wood-frame screens pay the same — it isn't priced per screen. It's usually booked alongside a window cleaning, since the two jobs undo each other if you only do one. Monthly and Quarterly members get one screen cleaning free every year.
Pull the screen and flush it flat rather than picking at it in place. The midge and mayfly hatches off Lake Lowell pack into the weave and the slider track on the south and west sides of town every summer, and crushing them just grinds the bodies in and stains the frame. Skip oily home sprays on the mesh — they trap field dust the rest of the season. They'll be back next year, but cleaning strips the current load and the film they leave behind.
You can, and on light dust it helps. Two warnings from doing this for a living. Never pressure wash a screen — it blows the mesh loose from the spline, bows those brittle first-generation vinyl frames, and creases the aluminum sliders on Nampa's mobile homes for good. And don't hose-rinse and walk away: Nampa well water runs about 7 grains, moderately hard, so you trade dust for mineral spotting baked onto the mesh and frame.
Yes, and there's no upcharge for upper floors. Plenty of the 2000s subdivisions like Ridgecrest, Summit Ridge and Copper River Basin are two-story on a tight lot, so the bedroom screens sit above foundation planting with a fence close behind. We work off ladders with standoffs and bring those screens down to wash them flat, same as the ground floor — no ladders leaned against soft old fascia on the historic homes.
Probably the sprinkler, not the screen. Many Nampa subdivisions run on the city's own pressurized irrigation system, pulling untreated water from the Pioneer and Nampa & Meridian canals off Lake Lowell. That water is hard and silt-laden, so overspray bakes on as a combined silt-and-calcium crust on the bottom few feet of glass and siding — worst right after the April canal turn-on. Cleaning helps, but re-aiming the head is what actually stops it.
Yes. The wood-framed screens and storm windows on the 1900-1940 bungalows in the Old Nampa Historic District are hand-fit to one opening, so we number them coming out and put each back where it belongs. They get washed flat with a soft brush, never a pressure washer, with care around the glazing putty and painted muntins. If we find dry-rotted frame stock or spline pulling loose, we show you before forcing anything back in.
Free estimate in 60 seconds. Same-day and next-day slots available.
Get Free Estimate Now