In a hollowed out trunk, on a quiet residential street in the fair town of Cambridge, just off the hurly-burly rush of Massachusetts Avenue, you can find this whimsical neighborhood treasure: Pooh's Reading Place.

It was conjured up by the shared craftsmanship of a small band of locals for the delight of those who happen by. Throughout the year, in every season, a small grey box sits in the trunk's rough-hewn recess, holding children's books in a take-one-give-one swap. In fair weather, Pooh himself makes an appearance.

We were lucky enough to find Pooh in residence the other day as we wandered the neighborhood on the holiday weekend.

It is one of those charming pleasures of city life: an anonymous gift that touches the soul of unsuspecting passersby; a simple hollow creating a portal to the enchanted realm of the 100 Aker Wood; a tender blending of nature and culture, adult and child, age and eternity, fantasy and reality.

In a pay-it-forward fashion, I am wondering what can we do in our neck of the woods?