Sorry, Aunt Patti. No water in sight from my seat.

There are four distinct areas in the Cape: lower, mid, upper, and outer. I’ve chosen the mid-Cape region because it seems the best cross of the quaint villages I sought and the world-renowned beaches Cape Cod is known for. Consequently, the directions of the song’s first stanza are easy enough to follow. You can drive from the northern edge of the mid-Cape area, Cape Cod Bay, to its southern edge, the waters of Nantucket Sound, in about 15 minutes. In other words, in about an hour, I pretty much explore the “here and there” needed to complete my quest.

During my day of wandering the Cape, I check off most of what I need to do. “Quaint villages”? Sure, if you consider touristcentric small towns along packed two-lane roads quaint. “Winding roads that seem to beckon you”? Yes. I go off the main grid several times, although it seems as though the thing the snaking roads most beckon me to do is exceed the 30 mph speed limit. “Miles of green beneath a sky of blue”? Easy. See it. Check it off. “Church bells chimin’ on a Sunday morn”? Of course. I’m here on a Sunday, do a Google search for “Cape Cod church bells,” and end up at the Dennis Union Church. Check.

The best I save for last. I find a road that leads me to Paines Creek Beach. I stake out a spot and take in the salty air and check out the sand dunes, as required by my quest. I wait until the sun goes down. I watch the moonlight as it dances across the waters of Cape Cod Bay, just like the song says. All that is left is the refrain: I need to fall in love with the place.

And I do. Sort of. It is beautiful, really, and I can see why people come here every summer. But as I sit here, I can’t help but think I should be across the country, in San Diego, where Aunt Patti lives, or back in Tulsa -- somewhere with family. Because all I can hear is my granny humming her sister’s song.