The landowner believes the building now serving agricultural purposes is the church itself, its original stonework absorbed into the working fabric of a farmyard. It is the kind of transformation that happened often enough across rural Ireland, where old ecclesiastical buildings were repurposed rather than demolished, leaving their origins legible only to those who know to look.

The site sits on elevated ground with open views in every direction, a position typical of early church foundations that combined visibility with a degree of defensibility. A hall house, the term for a type of medieval secular stone residence, stands approximately 200 metres to the north-east, suggesting this was once a more significant complex of buildings. The graveyard associated with the church, shown to the south and west on the first edition Ordnance Survey six-inch map, has left no visible traces on the surface today. Its existence is confirmed by the Ordnance Survey Letters, a remarkable nineteenth-century document in which scholars recorded local antiquities, place names, and oral traditions during the course of the original mapping of Ireland. The relevant volume, compiled by O'Flanagan, notes an old church and graveyard in precisely the area the maps indicate.

What makes Urard quietly unsettling is the layering of absences. The graveyard has vanished into the ground. The church survives only by having been made useful. The hall house nearby adds a further medieval presence to the landscape, and yet the whole ensemble is easy to pass without registering what it once was.