Spread across the fields in every direction are earthworks, low ridges, banks, and hollows that read, to a trained eye, as the ghost outline of a settlement long since absorbed back into the landscape. What makes this place quietly compelling is the scale of what remains: a large sub-rectangular enclosure measuring roughly 290 metres northwest to southeast and about 145 metres northeast to southwest, with the medieval church and its graveyard occupying the southwestern corner of that space, as if the community of the living once wrapped itself around the community of the dead.

The earthworks came to wider attention through aerial photography taken in 1971 as part of the Cambridge University Collection of Aerial Photography, and were later confirmed by satellite imagery and by observation on the ground. Several roughly parallel banks run northeast to southwest along the western edge of the enclosure, suggesting organised, possibly domestic, occupation. Just over fourteen metres to the northwest of the graveyard's outer wall lie the foundations of a small structure, tentatively identified as a house site. Running northward from the south of the site towards the graveyard's southwestern angle is a hollow-way, a sunken track worn into the earth by generations of repeated foot traffic, a kind of involuntary memorial to ordinary movement. Geophysical survey work carried out in 2017 identified a row settlement approximately 250 metres north of the church, and it is considered likely that this, too, formed part of the same broader medieval complex.

The earthworks are visible at ground level, though some features read more clearly from above or in low winter light, when shadows catch the subtle changes in relief. The hollow-way in particular remains perceptible as a distinct depression running toward the graveyard wall, which still stands and encloses the church ruins.