Whatever earthwork once marked the spot has long since flattened into the surrounding slope, leaving no surface trace of the people interred there or the ceremony that accompanied their burial. That absence is itself a kind of puzzle: a monument that has effectively erased itself while the graves beneath it remain.

The mound came to archaeological attention through work published by Price and Walshe in 1933, with further discussion by Waddell in 1990. Excavation revealed at least two cists, the term for a small stone-lined box grave typically associated with Bronze Age burial practice in Ireland, and possibly additional graves beyond those. Among the finds recovered were three bowls and a plain vessel, all of which are now held in the National Museum of Ireland. The ceramic finds are consistent with the kind of funerary pottery placed with the dead during the earlier Bronze Age, vessels whose precise significance, whether they held food, drink, or something symbolic entirely, remains a matter of interpretation. The site sits on a gentle south-facing slope, with a stream valley lying to the southwest, a setting that may not have been chosen at random; prominent natural features like water courses were frequently incorporated into the spatial thinking of prehistoric communities when selecting burial locations.

For anyone hoping to visit, there is little to see on the ground. The mound has no visible form remaining, and the artefacts that once lay within it are now in Dublin. What persists is essentially the knowledge that the place exists, a quiet patch of Wicklow farmland that once held, and still holds beneath its surface, evidence of lives lived and mourned several thousand years ago.