A tree grows there, surrounded by an overgrown patch of ground roughly four metres across, with a scatter of rocks at its base. There is no visible stone setting, no channel, and no trace of a spring. To most eyes, it would read as nothing at all.

Holy wells were once a feature of Irish devotional and folk life, typically marked by a water source, often a simple spring, around which stone surrounds, votive offerings, and patterns, the local tradition of ritual circuits performed on a patron saint's day, might accumulate over generations. This site, on the north-west bank of the Rine on an east-facing slope in the townland of Commons, was recorded as 'Toberinneenboy' on the Ordnance Survey's six-inch map of 1840, suggesting it was known and named at that point. The name itself likely contains the Irish elements tobar, meaning well, and possibly a personal name or descriptive diminutive. By the 1922 edition of the same map series, the designation had shifted to 'Toberinneenboy (Site of)', a small parenthetical that speaks volumes. The well had already passed from living feature to memory, from place to former place, within the span of a single mapping cycle.

What remains is that tree, those rocks, and the name preserved in cartographic amber. The absence of any spring or stonework now makes it difficult to say whether the well dried up, was deliberately filled, or simply fell out of use and was slowly reclaimed by grass and scrub. The site sits in an undulating field with some natural rock outcrop nearby, so the original water source, if there ever was a surface one, may always have been modest. What the 1922 map captured was less a ruin than a communal acknowledgement: this thing existed, and now it does not.