Not lost, not destroyed, simply swallowed by a dense thicket of cotoneaster, the sprawling ornamental shrub that, left to its own devices, will consume a garden fence or a prehistoric monument with equal indifference. The stone is there, upright, planted in suburban soil, and completely out of sight.

The situation is the result of a relocation that happened around 1980. The stone, rectangular in plan and measuring roughly half a metre across, had been lying flat at its original findspot some 300 metres to the north, where it had presumably toppled at some point in the distant past. Someone, almost certainly with practical good intentions, moved it south, stood it upright, and incorporated it into the domestic landscape of a bungalow garden. Standing stones of this kind are among the most common prehistoric monument types in Ireland, raised during the Bronze Age for purposes that remain genuinely uncertain, whether territorial, ritual, or funerary. What makes this particular example slightly more intriguing is a detail reported by the landowner: chisel marks on the side of the stone. Tooling of that kind could point to later working of the surface, though without closer examination it is impossible to say more.

The stone is on private land and, given the cotoneaster cover, there would be little to see even with access. What lingers is the particular absurdity of the situation: an object that survived several thousand years in a field, survived being knocked over, survived a twentieth-century relocation, and now quietly endures behind an impenetrable wall of shrub in somebody's front garden in Tipperary.