The sun is just coming out in Glasgow. It has been a heavy, west-central Scotland morning, the blue sky elbowed out of view by the gathering clouds. At 7.00am, a dedicated Yes activist hastily assembles a makeshift table, but most of the folk drifting in throughout the morning and afternoon walk with a sense of purpose in their step.
After a stint of soldiering on alone, a couple of No activists materialise, resplendent in red jacket and garlanded with "No thanks" flags and balloons. My pal at the station, Jim, is an old Labour man, with a career spent abroad, and he is accompanied by two kids - all itching to vote, speckled with Yes badges of every hue, talking proudly about their run-ins and encounters with independence-sceptical teachers and swithering fellow pupils. The two young women are, unfortunately, too young to vote, but their sense of enthusiasm is palpable.
The atmosphere amongst the activists, Yes and No, is cheery, conversational. "I'm just off for a coffee. Can I get you anything?" It is the spirit of the day. Some of the conversations and reflections on the campaign between the small knot of No and Yes activists are not unpointed, but they're overwhelmingly civilised and good-natured.
The voters of the Southside of Glasgow are a mixed bunch. It is an egalitarian area of town, with richer and poorer areas. Over the last few days, it has been full of happy Yes activity. Fiddles by the roadside, kids and flags. The electors leak their emotions as they march up to the church, eyes seeking out rosettes of their colour, their preferences, giving them a warm smile, a knowing nod, a thumbs up. To those of the other side? They smile, somewhat guardedly. "That's a no," we agree. "One of yours", they laugh.
But the mood is different. The No voters are toddling in, their mood muted, a smattering of badges. A No activist explains that he isn't against independence per se, but against it in these circumstances, at this time, given the state of the global economy. It isn't exactly a hardline, full throated defence of the Union whose future we'll decide today.
The Yes voters are different. A snatched photograph for the son abroad, smarting at his exclusion from this process. A nervous sense of anticipation, a sense of enthusiasm, history and occasion. One lady, her lapel bright with a blue Yes badge, catches her emotions as she leaves. "I feel calmer now than I have for the last two weeks," one explains, her wee boy proudly sporting a Yes T-shirt, casting an envious eye at this older brother, able to have his say in the ballot box.
A young man, another of the 16 and 17-year-olds enfranchised by the Scottish Parliament to participate in this poll, approaches the church hall aglow with a kind of coy pride, reticent about the unfamiliarity of the experience, but full of occasion. He's voting No. You can't help but like him, his seriousness, his quiet sense of pride in his choice.
Nobody here has any confident sense of how this will go, once all of the ballots are counted. The Yes activists are committed, but exercise a very Scottish caution. On the streets of Glasgow, it feels too close to call.
Lallands Peat Worrier is a prolific blogger on the subject of Scottish Independence. You can find his blog here.