The name alone is enough to stop you short. No formal monument survives, no inscription, no kerbing; just a vernacular place-name attached to a modest piece of landscape, and the quiet persistence of local memory.

Researcher Myler, writing in 1998, recorded that the ash tree stands on the line of a levelled bank, the kind of low earthwork that once defined or enclosed a burial area. The stones gathered along the northern field boundary were identified as possible grave-markers, though their original arrangement had long been disturbed. By the time of formal archaeological inventory, no structural remains of the burial ground were visible at all. What the 'Russian' in the name refers to is not explained in the surviving record; such names sometimes attach themselves to outsiders buried apart from a consecrated churchyard, whether foreign sailors, strangers of unknown origin, or those excluded from parish burial for other reasons. The name may preserve a real memory of an individual, or it may simply be the kind of label a community applies when the true story has been forgotten and something needs to be said.