A farm track cuts straight through the middle of it. A farmyard wall sits on top of one of its earthen banks. The church itself survives only as a barely perceptible rise in the ground, a low bank no more than ten to twenty centimetres high, tracing a rectangle roughly nine and a half metres long and five metres wide. What you are looking at, in other words, is a building that has effectively returned to the earth.

The site is more complex than that modest outline suggests. The church footprint lies on a slightly raised platform towards the western end of the enclosure, and this in turn sits within a D-shaped graveyard, the southern and western edges of which are defined by an earth and stone bank with a near-vertical drystone facing on the outside. That graveyard is itself contained within a larger oval enclosure, the outer edge of which is now only a slight scarp, a faint step in the ground, visible to the east of the farm track. A shallow fosse, essentially a ditch, runs around the south-western corner of the outer boundary. This kind of nested arrangement, a church within a graveyard within an enclosure, is characteristic of early Irish ecclesiastical sites, where successive boundaries marked gradations of sacred space. Beside the church platform lies a hexagonal block of granite, measuring about seventy-three centimetres long and thirty centimetres thick, with a shallow basin cut into its upper surface but no drainage hole. Whether it functioned as a baptismal font or as the base for a standing cross is unresolved, but its careful shaping and deliberate placement suggest it was never merely a field stone.