Seeking an escape from their busy city lives, four couples decided to create a unique community of tiny vacation homes to fulfill their retirement dreams together.
This eco-friendly retreat, tailored to individual needs, allows the couples to enjoy a shared experience surrounded by their closest friends. After more than two decades of friendship, these Texas couples were eager to find a quiet place away from their busy Austin homes, a place where they could immerse themselves in nature and rejuvenate.
When they discovered a piece of land near the Llano River, just an hour from Austin and perfect for nature lovers, they recognized its potential despite its rugged condition.
Fred Zipp, a former editor of the Austin American-Statesman, shared his first impressions with Garden and Gun magazine: “At first, it wasn’t very inviting”. He and his wife, Jodi, are among four couples who care about environmental sustainability and minimizing their carbon footprint. “This place has its charm, even when it’s dry”, Fred noted, pointing out the herds of wild buffalo that roam the rugged landscape. “We’re focused on conserving water for the native trees and grasses, which are really beautiful.”
The couple originally planned to build a house together, but after learning about the tiny house movement, they changed their focus and decided on individual houses and a communal building for gatherings.
With the help of San Antonio architect Matt Garcia, the vision took shape. With a budget of $40,000 per house, Garcia designed four compact 350-square-foot cabins, each equipped with a double bed, kitchenette and bathroom.
“We wanted a place where we could spend quality time together, eat together and enjoy each other’s company, while still maintaining privacy when needed”, Jodi explained.
The designs also included sustainable elements such as roofs that capture rainwater while meeting conservation guidelines. To combat the hot Texas climate, the cabins are insulated with spray foam and feature large overhangs to minimize heat gain.
Garcia focused on creating an inviting interior, contrasting the sleek metal facades with warm, grained plywood surfaces. The natural gray concrete floors add an affordable, stylish touch.
Large windows throughout the open floor plan allow for plenty of natural light and offer stunning river views. Additionally, a 1,500-square-foot community cabin serves as a hub for social activities and features a guest bedroom, living area, kitchen, and even a pool!
Reflecting on the cultural shift after the recession, Garcia said: “People began to realize that happiness does not come from owning too much space or things. I am proud to work with clients who embrace the idea that less is more”.
Although the eight friends are not yet ready for full-time retirement, their small community, called “Llano Exit Strategy” or “Bestie Row”, offers the perfect retreat. When they are not using the cabins, they rent them out to vacationers interested in the tiny house lifestyle.
“It’s like living in a Disney movie here! We have rabbits, bobcats, deer and a variety of birds. We discover more wildlife every time we visit”, they shared.
The story of “Bestie Row” sparked a lively debate on social media, with many expressing admiration for the couple’s commitment to friendship. One comment read: “What a brilliant idea! Friends building a community together is the way to go as we get older”. However, others raised concerns about the potential risks of living together in such a close relationship, suggesting that friendships could suffer.
Would you consider creating a micro-community to spend more time with your closest friends? Share this story and let us hear your thoughts!
My Stepdaughter Insisted I Reassign All Her Deceased Father’s Possessions into Her Name – I Complied, Yet She Was Unpleased
The emptiness of George’s departure permeates their residence, his presence enduring in the shirt Mariana grips nightly. However, it wasn’t his passing that devastated her… it was her stepdaughter Susan’s insistence on inheriting his wealth. When she reluctantly agreed, an unexpected twist left Susan enraged and Mariana strangely content.
Progressing past the death of a dear one is always challenging. At times, I still sense my husband George’s voice echoing in my mind. I awaken holding his cherished shirt, his fragrance still clinging to the material. Yet, as I mourned him, my stepdaughter’s actions… they utterly broke me…
I am Mariana, aged 57, wed to the kindest man, George, for 25 years. He had a daughter, Susan, aged 34, from an earlier marriage.
Our bond with Susan was once good. She addressed me as “Mom” and filled the gap in my heart from not bearing my own children. I never viewed her as “another’s” child. I cherished her as my own daughter, truly.
When Susan wed her chosen partner, George and I were thrilled. But then, everything deteriorated when George received a terminal cancer diagnosis.
Susan’s visits reduced from weekly to monthly, then ceased entirely. She seldom visited her father, occasionally phoning to inquire about his health.
One day, she posed a question that tore me apart. “How long does he have left?”
Clutching the phone tightly, my voice shook. “Susan, your father isn’t an item with an expiration date.”
“I just need to know, Mom. I’m swamped, you know that… I can’t come by often,” she responded.
“Swamped?” I repeated, my tone filled with disbelief. “Too swamped to visit your dying father?”
She exhaled deeply. “Look, I’ll attempt to come soon, okay?”
But that “soon” never materialized.
Then, the dreaded day arrived. The hospital informed me that George had passed away peacefully.
I was devastated, barely able to stand as the reality sank in. My beloved George, gone.
Shockingly, Susan didn’t attend his funeral. When I called her, she promptly excused herself.
“I’m expecting, Mom,” she stated, her tone strangely indifferent. “The doctors advised against lengthy travel due to some medical concerns.”
I swallowed hard, holding back tears. “But Susan, it’s your father’s funeral. Don’t you wish to bid him farewell one last time?”
“I can’t jeopardize my baby’s health,” she curtly replied. “You understand, right?”
I didn’t, not truly, but I nodded silently, forgetting she couldn’t see me. “Of course, dear. Take care.”
As I sat near my husband’s coffin, I couldn’t dismiss the notion that our relationship had irrevocably changed.
Six months post-George’s death, I was startled by a loud knock at my door. Opening it, I saw Susan and her husband Doug, along with a severe-looking man in a suit.
Susan entered without greeting. “Mom, we need your signature on some documents.”
Baffled, I blinked. “Which documents?”
Doug handed me a stack of papers, including a blank sheet. “Just sign these. They’re for transferring all the properties into our names.”
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