The well itself is unassuming: a natural pool no more than two metres across and twenty centimetres deep, sitting in a slight hollow in open pasture, its outflow guided away through a modern field drain. What distinguishes it is not its scale but its persistence as a place people returned to, generation after generation, for reasons that were simultaneously religious and communal.

The well was already significant enough to be named on the Ordnance Survey's six-inch maps of 1838 and 1916, both of which record it as St. Patrick's Well. A pattern was held here annually on the first Sunday in August; a pattern, in Irish tradition, being a localised devotional gathering combining prayer circuits around a sacred site with the social life of a community holiday. Curving around the northern side of the spring is a low stony rise with a small stone cross set into its top, and an ash tree stands at its western end, the kind of tree frequently associated with holy wells across Ireland. The 1916 map also marks a church immediately to the west of the well, though no physical trace of it now remains above ground. Three hundred metres to the northwest lies a further cluster of related monuments: another church, a graveyard, and a children's burial ground, the latter being what is sometimes called a cillín, a place set apart for the unbaptised dead. Together they suggest that this small hollow once formed part of a much denser sacred landscape.

The well sits in working pasture, and the stone cross on the low rise is the most visible marker for anyone approaching on foot. The first Sunday in August, the old pattern date, falls around what was traditionally Lughnasa, the ancient harvest festival, and many Irish holy well patterns cluster around that same period, suggesting a layering of pre-Christian and Christian observance that no single date or dedication can fully explain.