What makes it quietly unusual is not any elaborate stonework or votive decoration, but precisely the absence of these things. Most Irish holy wells accumulate some visible trace of devotion, rags tied to nearby branches, coins pressed into crevices, small tokens left by those seeking a cure or intercession. Here, there are no signs of offerings at all, yet the well is associated locally with a figure known as St Craff, a saint whose name survives in the placename of the glen itself but who otherwise leaves almost no mark on the written record.

The pairing of a saint's name with a natural water source is one of the oldest patterns in Irish sacred geography, stretching back through early medieval Christianity and almost certainly beyond it into pre-Christian traditions of spring veneration. That the spring here is a simple rock cleft rather than a constructed well-chamber only reinforces the sense of something very old and lightly touched by later custom. Close by, two other features catch the attention: a hawthorn tree some ten metres to the north-west, and, eleven metres to the south, what has been described as a remarkable water-worn flagstone. The hawthorn has its own long association with holy wells and fairy lore in Ireland, often marking a sacred or liminal spot. The flagstone, shaped by water over an immense span of time, sits alongside the spring as an incidental but quietly compelling detail of the landscape.