That, in its own way, is the point. Beneath a gently sloping stretch of tillage land, a church and its burial ground have all but dissolved back into the earth, leaving only the faintest of undulations to suggest that anything was ever there at all. The enclosure, roughly oval in shape, measured around 50 yards by 35, and would once have defined a recognisable ecclesiastical site, a curving perimeter enclosing both a place of worship and the dead buried around it. Such enclosures are a common feature of early Irish Christian sites, the circular or sub-circular boundary marking a sacred precinct set apart from the surrounding farmland. This one is now largely indistinguishable from it.

When a researcher named Bowman visited in 1934 and recorded what he found on land belonging to a J. Morrissey, the site was already well on its way to vanishing. About a third of the surrounding fence still stood at that point, grass-covered mounds on the northern side indicated where the church had been, and two whitethorn trees, long associated in Irish tradition with sacred and liminal places, marked the church-site itself. By the time the 1938 Ordnance Survey six-inch map was produced, only an arc of a bank, running roughly south-south-east to north-north-west, survived to be depicted. Subsequent tillage appears to have done the rest. Later assessment found the site levelled, with barely perceptible undulations as the only remaining physical evidence of what Bowman had described just a few decades earlier.