Yet what remains repays closer attention. The footings trace out a nave-and-chancel plan, the two sections originally divided by a cross-wall that is now heavily overgrown. A gap of roughly eighty centimetres in the southern wall hints at where the entrance once stood. The interior of the ruin is notably uneven, its surface undulating in a way that suggests considerable disturbance beneath the turf over many years.

The graveyard's headstones are all nineteenth- and twentieth-century in date, which tells us the site remained in use as a burial ground long after the church itself fell into ruin. Within a small stone-walled enclosure built against the western end of the church lie the remains of a vault belonging to the Lidwell family, a quiet territorial claim inserted into the ruins. More intriguing still is what an aerial photograph taken in 1973 revealed: a portion of a curving enclosure lying immediately to the west of the church and graveyard. On the ground, this feature is less legible, but there is a broad, low rise, roughly eight metres wide, which may represent the remains of a levelled bank, and a shallow external dip at its southern end consistent with an outer fosse, the defensive ditch that typically accompanied an earthen enclosure. The natural ridge on which the graveyard sits extends westward and ends just before this possible bank, which raises the question of whether early builders deliberately incorporated the ridge's edge into a larger enclosure, or whether a more ambitious perimeter was once planned beyond it.