&ldquo;Bittersweet,&rdquo; it&rsquo;s called. Or, more properly, <em>Celastrus scandens.</em></p><p> In our family, the gathering of it is an autumn ritual &mdash; as much a tradition as the spring search for morels and the harvesting of wild blackberries in early July.</p><p> Over the years, we have discovered the particular areas in the neighborhood of our Ozark cabin where the fruiting vine flourishes most abundantly.</p><p> Do not be misled by the term &ldquo;fruiting.&rdquo; Although birds and other wildlife consume the berries, and depend on them particularly during the hard months of winter, no part of the plant is edible by humans.</p><p> It won&rsquo;t kill you, the literature says, but it will &ldquo;clean you out at both ends.&rdquo; We&rsquo;ve preferred not to test that. We accept it as fact.</p><p> The decorative uses of the plant are many, however: for dry bouquets or wall hangings, or to add a note of brilliance to woven grapevine door wreaths.</p><p> The blossoms of bittersweet are small, not at all showy. And in summer, its foliage is hardly noticeable against the green background of the oak and hickory forest.</p><p> But with cooler weather and shortening light, its leaves are the earliest to turn, blanching to a pallid yellow. You see it easily then, entwined in fences and higher, in tree branches to which the vine has climbed.</p><p>When picked, the orange husks of the berries burst open to reveal the blazing scarlet seed capsule inside.</p><p> You find it sometimes in florists&rsquo; shops or in farmers&rsquo; markets, small bunches priced at $10, sometimes more. We don&rsquo;t pick to sell, but for our own use, or as a small favor for friends.</p><p> Last year was a dry one in that Ozark region, and the crop was lean. This year, though, with ample rain, there was a bounteous harvest.</p><p> My daughter and I had made the trip expressly for that purpose. The first we found in trees and bushes in the immediate perimeter of the cabin clearing. Then a good deal more down the fence line toward where a stream from the pond spillway crosses the road.</p><p> The only problem with the activity is that it&rsquo;s addictive.</p><p> We hadn&rsquo;t even been yet to our special honey hole &mdash; a gravel lane just south of the blacktop, where vines receiving full sun make a riotous net through the sapling and sumac branches, and where, even in a poor season, success is all but sure.</p><p> To sum up, it was half past 3 o&rsquo;clock before we remembered to break for lunch. And driving home, the whole back seat of the car was full to the roof with bittersweet.</p><p> Now the cuttings, many still to be purged of leaves, are heaped in a bright mountain on the dining room table, waiting to be processed.</p><p> On our next outing to the cabin, we&rsquo;ll collect wild grape vines for wreaths and perhaps some water lily seed pods to add with the bittersweet for accents.</p><p> I have to say it&rsquo;s fine activity for this time of year when the fishing&rsquo;s finished and the quail season&rsquo;s not yet quite begun.</p><p> There just has to be some better way than sitting at a typewriter to fill these golden days.