That small omission hints at something quietly unresolved about this place: it is documented but not quite pinned down, present in the record yet slightly resistant to it.

The church at the centre of the rectangular enclosure is an older presence than the wall that now surrounds both church and graves. That perimeter wall was put up by the County Council, most likely in the second half of the nineteenth century, giving the site a tidy civic boundary it probably lacked for much of its working life. Inside, the memorials are sparse. The dominant monuments are several large chest tombs from the early nineteenth century, the kind of heavy, lidded stone boxes that wealthy families once commissioned to mark their dead with some permanence. The historian William Carrigan, writing in 1905 in his substantial account of the diocese of Ossory, noted that the earliest legible memorial dates from 1732, which places the graveyard firmly in active use well before the surrounding wall was ever contemplated.

The hill setting gives the place an unusual quality of openness. Views extend in all directions across the grassland, and the church sits at the geometric centre of its enclosure, a relationship between building and boundary that feels deliberate. The chest tombs, weathered but still imposing, are worth looking at closely; the lettering on early eighteenth-century stonework in Kilkenny tends to be cut with some care, and even where names have worn, the formal geometry of the carving often survives.