No walls, no dressed stone, no outline in the grass to hint at what once stood here. The site exists almost entirely as an absence, its presence confirmed by the written record rather than anything a visitor could point to.

When Bowman recorded the site in 1934, there was still something to describe. Grass-covered mounds at the northern end of a burial ground marked where the church had stood, soft rises in the earth suggesting foundations beneath. By the time more recent surveys came to assess it, even those modest traces had gone. No visible surface trace of the church or the burial ground now remains. What Bowman captured was, in effect, a last glimpse of a place in the process of disappearing entirely back into the landscape. The burial ground itself, recorded separately, was noted alongside the church, suggesting a small ecclesiastical enclosure of the kind found across rural Ireland, where a modest church and its associated graveyard formed the spiritual centre of a local community, sometimes for centuries, before falling into disuse and slow erasure.