Why Pink Is My New Favorite Color

Believe it or not, five years ago, you wouldn’t catch me dead wearing pink. It just wasn’t my color. I didn’t think about it much—it simply didn’t speak to me. But these days… well, pink might just be my new favorite. And here’s why:

Let me tell you about my friend Toni. She also happens to be the best neighbor a girl could ask for. Especially if that girl had a lifelong dream of living on a farm with horses—and maybe even told a little fib in first grade about owning two Clydesdales that lived in her very suburban backyard. (Yeah… that was me.) I never did end up with horses, or a farm, or even a real connection to them. But like many women in their 40s who once adored horses as girls, that spark was always there, quietly glowing.

So when my family decided to move back to the West Coast (best coast!) after 25 years in Maryland, we landed on a property right next to what would become Toni’s Ponies. And the moment that sold it for me? We pulled up after a long, disheartening day of house hunting, and there, under an apple tree, was what I was sure was a unicorn. I turned to John and said, “There’s a unicorn under that tree!” He looked and replied, “That’s the most dilapidated unicorn I’ve ever seen.” We didn’t know it yet, but that unicorn was Old Man Winter—a 30+ year-old rescue horse brought back from the brink of starvation. We didn’t know Toni or Andy yet, but their story—and ours—was just beginning.

Fast forward to 2020. We move in. I know no one in Kingston, WA. It’s muddy and gray, and I’m unpacking boxes with a 6-month-old while watching 12 horses through my window. I see Toni and Andy come out to feed, like clockwork, twice a day. I want to help… maybe even touch a horse. But I’m nervous. They’re welcoming, even give me a cheat sheet to identify the horses—but they say things like “the big paint” and I have no idea what that means. I start tossing carrots over the fence like a scared raccoon.

I’m an extrovert. I had spent years building a community back East—and now I was lonely and slowly driving my husband bananas. Eventually, he texted Toni and basically begged her to let me come help with the horses.

And that’s where this story truly begins.

Toni welcomed me in like family. She introduced me to her people—so many people. I quickly learned that she’s a local legend. I’d watch her stop to talk to person after person at the grocery store. I started helping out more and more—running errands, picking up yard sale donations. I watched her connect people who needed help with people who could give it, time and time again.

And I noticed something else: everything was pink. Pink rakes, pink buckets, pink halters, pink signs. The horse trailer? Pink. Her shirts? Usually hot pink. Even the horseshoes were painted pink. Oh—and don’t even get me started on her fabulous pink nails. I had never seen a woman scoop horse poop with such glamorous claws.

The pink made me smile at first. But soon, it became something more. It was a signal. A thread. A reminder that love and grit can live in the same place. That rescue work can be hard and messy—and still be joyful. Still be beautiful.

The rescue began to grow—horses, yes, but also people. Volunteers flocked to the farm, each drawn in by the horses, the mission, and Toni herself. She’s a flame and we’re all moths. We now have a core crew of about 15 women, ages ranging from teens to 70s. We show up twice a week. We’ve become a family. When one of us goes through something, we all step in. And yes—on Wednesdays (and Saturdays), we wear pink.

Today, I drove through Kingston with my windows down, waving to friends as we headed to the Fourth of July Parade staging area. We’d picked up a couple friends, parked at another friend’s house (a big win—parking’s a mess on the 4th), and I found myself thinking: five years ago, I didn’t know anyone here. Today, it feels like I know the whole town. And I owe so much of that to Toni’s Ponies—and to Toni Houck.

Toni’s Ponies couldn’t survive without its volunteers and the incredible community that surrounds it. But it also wouldn’t exist without Toni. Her care, her grit, her love for these horses, and her ability to bring people together is unmatched. She’s given so many of us a place to belong. A reason to show up. A way to be useful. A place to heal.

We walked in the parade today dressed in pink, pulling the glittery pink trailer and the sparkling pink Kubota. All to support the 30+ horses, minis, and donkeys that now call the farm home.

And now, pink doesn’t just remind me of something cute. It reminds me of resilience. Of kindness. Of magic. It reminds me of Toni—and of the power of saying yes when someone opens the gate.

So yeah. I guess pink is my favorite color now. And honestly? I wouldn’t have it any other way.