A low mound swells up from the interior, and the working theory is that it marks the buried footprint of a church, the building long since gone but its presence still legible as a bump in the earth beneath the headstones.

The graveyard sits at the south-eastern end of a north-south ridge, enclosed within a rubble-built sandstone wall of probable nineteenth-century construction. The wall is modest on its interior face, standing about a metre high, but reaches two metres on the exterior, a detail that gives the enclosure a slightly more imposing aspect from the outside than from within. The rectangular space it defines measures roughly fifty metres by forty-two, and contains headstones dating from the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. What makes the wider setting worth dwelling on is the proximity of a motte, just 160 metres to the north. A motte is the raised earthen mound at the core of an early medieval Norman fortification, the base on which a timber tower would originally have stood. The pairing of a Norman defensive feature with a nearby ecclesiastical site is not unusual in the Irish landscape, where conquerors and communities often settled close to existing centres of local significance, but here on an open upland ridge with clear views in every direction, the spatial relationship between the two feels particularly legible.

The site lies in grassland, and the elevated position means the surroundings are open rather than enclosed. The mound at the graveyard's centre is unexcavated, so its identification as a church site remains interpretive rather than confirmed, which gives the place a slightly unresolved quality that is part of its interest.