A field, now grazed as pasture, carries in its south-eastern corner a local memory of a burial ground, and somewhere beneath the grass lies what was once a church site. There is nothing to see: no stone, no outline, no hollow in the earth that might betray a grave. The land gives nothing away.

Writing in 1934, a researcher named Bowman recorded that the church had been ploughed many times over, and that nothing of it then remained above ground. The place-name, Church Hill, is itself the most durable remnant, one of those quiet instances where topography preserves a memory long after the physical evidence has been erased by agriculture. The south-eastern quadrant of the field is the area identified locally as the burial ground, a designation passed down through oral tradition rather than any visible feature. Early church sites in Ireland were frequently modest affairs, timber-built or of simple unmortared stone, which made them especially vulnerable to later land use. Once ploughing began in earnest, such structures left little behind.