And yet, I wouldn’t trade the experience for anything.

Every old house asks something of its owners. Upsala asks a little more than most. In return, it offers something increasingly rare: authenticity. The kind that can’t be manufactured, replicated, or ordered from a catalog. Every floorboard, mantel, window, and staircase tells a story. Every room carries the accumulated weight of more than two hundred years of people attempting, in their own way, to care for this extraordinary place.

“Every floorboard, mantel, window, and staircase tells a story.”

Over the last several years, enormous progress has been made. Systems have been improved. Historic fabric has been preserved. Countless hours have been spent researching, planning, restoring, and making thoughtful decisions about how best to balance preservation with modern living.

The work, however, is not finished.

Then again, houses like this never really are.

A significant restoration of the rear wing was begun with plans for a major renovation and reimagining of that portion of the estate. As often happens with ambitious projects, life intervened before every chapter could be completed. The next steward now has a rare opportunity to shape part of this remarkable property according to their own vision rather than inheriting mine.

Honestly, I’m a little jealous.

Because despite all the work that’s been done, Upsala still has dreams left in it.

For the right buyer, that should be exciting.

This is not a museum. It is not a finished product. It is not a carefully staged historic artifact frozen in time. It is a living house that continues to evolve, just as it has for more than two centuries.

And for those intimidated by historic properties, I am happy to remain available as a resource during the transition. After years spent navigating restoration projects, preservation planning, the Philadelphia Historical Commission, and the National Trust easement, I have accumulated a frankly unreasonable amount of knowledge about this property and would be delighted to help the next steward avoid learning some lessons the hard way. For what it’s worth, the easement is considerably less intimidating than the seventy-page document would have you believe.

I hope the next owner hosts great dinners here. I hope they continue the restoration thoughtfully. I hope they sit on the lawn on a summer evening and feel the same sense of wonder that made me fall in love with this place in the first place.

Most of all, I hope they appreciate what a privilege it is to care for a house like this, even on the days when the house seems determined to test that conviction.

Upsala has survived for more than two hundred years because every generation eventually passes the baton to the next. I’ve carried it as far as I could.

The next chapter belongs to someone else.