Inside the All-Women Tiny Home Community Founded by a 70-Year-Old (Exclusive)

On a quiet stretch of Cumby, Texas, something unexpected is blooming: a village of women who have found a second chance at community. 

On five acres of open land, tiny houses line the property like puzzle pieces, each holding a story of independence, resilience and connection — and the internet can’t get enough.

At the center of it all is 70-year-old Robyn, who looked at her retirement savings and decided to build something extraordinary.

“I bought a tiny house and lived in a tiny house community, and then decided, hey, I could do some passive income with my 401(k),” Robyn tells PEOPLE, describing the first spark of an idea that would soon take flight as The Bird’s Nest.

The Bird’s Nest now houses 11 women between the ages of 60 and 80, most of them single, divorced or widowed. Rent starts at $450 a month, but what they’re really buying is companionship and a built-in support system that’s rare to find in traditional retirement settings.

Getting there wasn’t easy. “The first thing was finding the property,” Robyn shares. “Tiny houses are not allowed in many areas… it has to be unincorporated land.”

That meant months of searching for land that wasn’t too remote but still affordable enough to make her dream possible. “We’re zoned as an RV park,” she explains, “so I kept expanding outside of Dallas to see where I could get.”

Robyn ultimately invested $150,000 from her 401(k) to build 14 tiny homes, a leap that would make most people pause. “I’m not a person that dwells on what ifs,” she notes. “I had the need, and I knew that the money in there would not help me in retirement… so I just took a leap of faith.”

Faith has since turned into a thriving neighborhood where mornings begin with coffee under a pavilion the residents call their “kitchen.” “I’m really the early riser, so I’m the first one up,” Robyn says. “I go out to our kitchen pavilion, have my coffee, let my dogs run… and there’s always a lot of work to do maintaining the property.”

Her days are spent mowing, cutting sunflowers and sharing meals, but evenings are sacred. “We all eventually gather in the evenings, every night, it seems,” Robyn says. “Just to touch base with everybody… see how their day went.”

That daily rhythm is anchored by a simple but powerful rule: no drama. “Anything that we have, you have to come out and discuss it,” Robyn explains. “We end the conversation with, ‘No feelings hurt. This is just my perspective.’ ”

The approach has created a culture of honesty and respect, where grievances are aired directly and relationships remain strong. “We have to respect each other, and we all do,” she says, her voice clear with conviction.

Demand for this kind of living has soared far beyond what Robyn imagined. Out of 14 pads, only one was left at the time of the interview — and more than 500 women were already on the waiting list. “It’s almost like a first-come, first-served that has all the boxes checked,” she says, admitting the selection process is still evolving.

But once a woman joins, she becomes part of a web of care that extends well beyond shared chores. “If somebody has surgery, we just had a neighbor with knee surgery, we all took turns taking her to physical therapy, providing meals, running to the store,” Robyn shares. “We can read each other. Somebody will come out and go, ‘Hey, are you okay?’ ”

That intuitive care, born from spending each day together, has surprised Robyn as much as anyone. “I don’t think I realized what my role would be,” she admits. “I want everything to work. I want everybody to be happy… and it’s not a burden, but it’s on my mind.”

Over time, she’s even discovered new sides of herself. “I don’t ever think — thought — I was an empath, but being here, I think I am,” Robyn admits, reflecting on how deeply she feels the emotions of her neighbors.

Still, she balances that softness with a refreshing directness. “If people ask a question, I tell the truth,” she says with a small laugh. “Sometimes that’s not what they’re looking for, you know, but I am.”

That honesty, even when it stings, has become another layer of trust in the community. “I have hurt feelings, and then I come back and go, ‘Look, I’m just stating how I feel and how I see things,’ ” Robyn explains. “To me, that’s a true friend.”

The Bird’s Nest has also become a model — one that people across the country are now looking to replicate. “I think it can be replicated absolutely for other age groups,” Robyn says. “But I don’t think it would be quite the same community.”

Part of that difference, she believes, comes down to age and lifestyle. “Younger people, everybody’s working, everybody’s on the move,” Robyn says. “I think there would be a lot more drama. A younger crowd might not be quite as close-knit as we are.”

For now, the community’s makeup feels just right. “The majority, 80 to 89 percent of tiny home dwellers are retired women,” Robyn observes. “That’s who this works for.”

And for those women, The Bird’s Nest offers more than just affordability — it offers a second family. They check in on each other when someone seems down, share lunches and laughter, and sit together in the fading Texas light.

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“We are a community,” Robyn shares. “It’s all about women empowering women. We can’t knock women down. We have to embrace each other and take the extra step to be kind.”

As for the future, Robyn is honest about her uncertainty. “I hope that other people see all of this, all the buzz, and that they try to replicate and do one,” she says. “But when we are all gone, the original OGs… I don’t think it will be maintained, because I won’t be here.”

Even the name of the community reflects Robyn’s humor and heart. “Because of my name. I’m Robyn. What else could it be?” she says with a smile.

And maybe that’s what makes The Bird’s Nest so resonant: a vision born of one woman’s leap of faith, rooted in kindness and courage, now spreading its wings across the imagination of thousands. For the women who live there, it isn’t just housing. It’s home.