Not a wall, not a course of stone, not a gable end softened by ivy. The site sits on a rock outcrop in the corner of a field, and its ecclesiastical identity survives only in local memory rather than in any physical evidence above ground.

The reason for that absence is fairly straightforward. Around 1935, the stones were removed, most likely reused for building work elsewhere, as happened with countless early church sites across rural Ireland when dressed or roughly-worked stone was more valuable as a practical material than as a historical remnant. What the church looked like, how old it was, or to whom it might have been dedicated, the available record does not say. What persists is the local tradition that identifies this unremarkable rocky corner as a sacred site, which is itself a form of evidence. Communities tended to remember these things even when the physical markers disappeared, and that kind of oral continuity has sometimes led to the rediscovery of sites that official surveys had effectively written off.