Harvesting leeks

I'd keep my leeks in the ground longer, but I planted them at the community garden and our fall clean up day is Saturday; all gardens have to be empty by then.  I started them by seed back in the late winter, and when I transplanted them into the garden they were small, thin, spindly, barely a plant you'd think to see when all else was gone.  Someone else hasn't harvested their kale, still a shock of green-deep life on earth.  At home my brussels sprouts grow still; I'll let frost and snow sweeten the nubs, kill the bugs.  But now I've got these leeks, a huge pile of leeks.  You can be sure I'll make a leek tart this weekend.  And the rest we'll clean, cut, and cook, just briefly in a buttery pan, enough to break down some of that stubborn cell wall.  After that we'll let them cool and fill small bags or bowls with Allium ampeloprasum, a freezerful of possibilities, and a long winter ahead.