There is nothing to see. No stone, no mound, no outline in the grass suggests that anything sacred ever occupied the spot. The absence itself is the point.

The tradition was recorded by Grove White in the early twentieth century, who noted the local belief that the church and burial ground lay on the south side of the garden wall, precisely where the gravel walk runs. By then the site had already been fading for decades. Writing in 1847, the antiquarian John Windele observed that the church's vestiges were scarcely remaining even at that date, which places its practical disappearance well back into the eighteenth century or earlier. Whether the country house and its garden absorbed and erased the earlier remains, or whether the structures had already collapsed and been forgotten before the garden was laid out, is not recorded. What survives is the memory of the tradition rather than any physical evidence of the place itself.

What gives the site a quietly peculiar character is its immediate neighbourhood. Roughly forty metres to the east stands what is recorded as a holy tree, and approximately twenty-five metres to the north lies a holy well. Holy wells in Ireland are typically ancient focal points of local veneration, often pre-Christian in origin and later absorbed into Christian devotional practice. The clustering of a church site, a burial ground, a holy well, and a holy tree within such a compact area suggests a place that was once a dense node of spiritual significance, now reduced to a garden path and two features that most passers-by would not recognise for what they are.