This elevation, common in old Irish churchyards, is the slow accumulation of generations laid one above another, the earth building up almost imperceptibly over time. The site measures roughly fifty metres long and thirty-five metres wide, enclosed not by stone but by hedge, and it remains in active use today.

Within the enclosure stand the remains of an earlier church, recorded separately in the archaeological survey record, which give the graveyard its deeper context. Particularly curious are the architectural mouldings found to the south-east of the church ruin, repurposed as grave markers. These are carved or shaped stone elements, likely salvaged from the church fabric itself as the building fell into disrepair, then set to a new purpose among the burials. It is a practical form of recycling with a certain solemnity to it, the building's own stonework pressed into service to mark the people interred in its shadow. The site was surveyed in 1992 by Egan and the record was later compiled by Geraldine Stout and updated by Christine Baker in 2014.

The graveyard sits off a laneway that runs along its southern boundary, and new housing has grown up immediately to the east, giving the place an oddly layered quality, old burial ground and modern suburb in close proximity. The open setting means the views across the north Dublin countryside are relatively clear, worth pausing over. Visitors looking closely among the grave markers should keep an eye out for those repurposed architectural stones to the south-east of the church remains; they are easy to overlook if you are not specifically watching for them, but they reward the attentive.