In a level field at Cloney, hemmed in by farm outbuildings on three sides, a small graveyard occupies a curiously shaped enclosure that quietly announces its age. The boundary is roughly D-shaped, measuring around 34 metres across and with an unusually straight southeast side running for approximately 58 metres, the whole thing fenced today with wire and post rather than the kind of earthen bank or stone wall you might expect. That geometric irregularity is often a clue that a site has been shaped by something older than the graveyard itself.

The most telling detail is the ruined church that stands at the northern end of the enclosure. Church ruins sitting within or beside a graveyard typically signal a medieval foundation, the community of the living long gone but the community of the dead persisting around the collapsed walls. Adding further weight to the site's long occupation, a castle once stood roughly 75 metres to the north, suggesting that whoever controlled this land in the medieval period had both a place of worship and a fortified residence close at hand. The legible grave markers date from the 18th century, meaning the burial ground continued in use well after both the church and the castle had fallen into ruin. The enclosure is partially overgrown now, the vegetation softening but not entirely obscuring the outlines of what was once a more active and more architecturally complex place.