The wall stands only about sixty centimetres high and a metre wide, modest dimensions that sit oddly with the effort clearly invested in its construction. It follows a course from the base of a natural scree slope to the south-west of the church, around to a point to the north-east, passing within ten metres of the east gable. A further stretch runs to the north, and two shorter sections to the east may once have formed an entrance. The whole thing is pressed against the foot of a rock face, tucked into the landscape rather than imposed upon it.

The enclosure belongs to a broader network of field walls in the area around the church, but the relationship between them is not straightforward. The dating sequence of the various walls remains unclear, meaning it is genuinely uncertain whether the enclosure predates the field system, grew out of it, or was simply incorporated into it over time. Church enclosures of this kind, when they can be dated, often turn out to be early medieval in origin, sometimes marking a boundary that was as much spiritual as practical, separating sacred ground from the surrounding land. Whether that is the case here cannot be said with confidence. What is clear is that the wall and the church share a setting shaped as much by the natural terrain, the scree, the rock face, the slope, as by any human plan.