The land is under tillage, the soil is turned seasonally, and human bones have been exposed in the process, noted in the archaeological record as far back as 1975. There are no visible surface remains, no stones, no earthworks, no obvious boundary to mark this as anything other than ordinary farmland. Yet the tradition of a chapel once standing here has persisted long enough to be recorded, suggesting that what lies beneath the furrows is the remnant of a once-recognised sacred site.

A geophysical survey, carried out under licence in 2012 in advance of a proposed development, began to sketch the invisible shape of whatever complex exists below ground. Geophysical survey works by detecting subtle variations in the soil's physical properties, allowing archaeologists to identify buried features without excavation. The results identified an archaeological complex extending roughly 100 metres north to south. At its core is a circular enclosure approximately 55 metres in diameter, within which numerous responses suggest the presence of pit features, consistent with a burial ground. Extending outward from the enclosure are rectilinear responses, some of which may be contemporary with the enclosure itself, hinting at associated structures, perhaps the very chapel tradition has long remembered. The survey was compiled by Geraldine Stout and forms part of the national Sites and Monuments Record for Dublin.

There is nothing to see here in the conventional sense, which is part of what makes it worth knowing about. The site sits on elevated ground, and its location within an actively farmed field means there is no public access across the land itself. What the survey data describes is effectively an entire ecclesiastical or funerary complex that has vanished from the surface while remaining largely intact below it. For anyone with an interest in how much of Ireland's early medieval landscape lies quietly underfoot, unannounced and unmarked, Forrest Great offers an unusually clear illustration of that fact.